Well, we had a large room almost empty and Mr. Stewart liked the idea of a party, so Mrs. Louderer, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, and myself planned for the event.  It was to be a sewing-bee, a few good neighbors invited, and all to sew for Grandma....  So Mrs. O’Shaughnessy went to Grandma’s and got all the material she had to make up.  I had saved some sugar-bags and some flour-bags.  I knew Cora Belle needed underwear, so I made her some little petticoats of the larger bags and some drawers of the smaller.  I had a small piece of white lawn that I had no use for, and of that I made a dear little sunbonnet with a narrow edging of lace around, and also made a gingham bonnet for her.  Two days before the time, came Mrs. Louderer, laden with bundles, and Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, also laden.  We had all been thinking of Cora Belle.  Mr. Stewart had sent by mail for her a pair of sandals for everyday wear and a nice pair of shoes, also some stockings.  Mrs. Louderer brought cloth for three dresses of heavy Dutch calico, and gingham for three aprons.  She made them herself and she sews so carefully.  She had bought patterns and the little dresses were stylishly made, as well as well made.  Mrs. O’Shaughnessy brought a piece of crossbar with a tiny forget-me-not polka dot, and also had goods and embroidery for a suit of underwear.  My own poor efforts were already completed when the rest came, so I was free to help them.

Late in the afternoon of the 29th a funny something showed up.  Fancy a squeaky, rickety old wagon without a vestige of paint.  The tires had come off and had been “set” at home; that is done by heating the tires red-hot and having the rims of the wheels covered with several layers of burlap, or other old rags, well wet; then the red-hot tire is put on and water hurriedly poured on to shrink the iron and to keep the burlap from blazing.  Well, whoever had set Cora Belle’s tires had forgotten to cut away the surplus burlap, so all the ragtags were merrily waving in the breeze.

Cora Belle’s team would bring a smile to the soberest face alive.  Sheba is a tall, lanky old mare.  Once she was bay in color, but the years have added gray hair until now she is roan.  Being so long-legged she strides along at an amazing pace which her mate, Balaam, a little donkey, finds it hard to keep up with.  Balaam, like Sheba, is full of years.  Once his glossy brown coat was the pride of some Mexican’s heart, but time has added to his color also, and now he is blue.  His eyes are sunken and dim, his ears no longer stand up in true donkey style, but droop dejectedly.  He has to trot his best to keep up with Sheba’s slowest stride.  About every three miles he balks, but little Cora Belle doesn’t call it balking, she says Balaam has stopped to rest, and they sit and wait till he is ready to trot along again.  That is the kind of layout which drew up before our door that evening.  Cora Belle was driving and she wore her wonderful pink dress which hung down