TWO VISITS
"Yes, sir. You'd say so, sir if you could see her," choked Nancy. "I hain't seen her but twice since she knew about it, an' it done me up both times. Ye see it's all so fresh an' new to her, an' she keeps thinkin' all the time of new things she can't do—now. It worries her, too, 'cause she can't seem ter be glad—maybe you don't know about her game, though," broke off Nancy, apologetically.
"The 'glad game'?" asked the man. "Oh, yes; she told me of that."
"Oh, she did! Well, I guess she has told it generally ter most folks. But ye see, now she—she can't play it herself, an' it worries her. She says she can't think of a thing—not a thing about this not walkin' again, ter be glad about."
"Well, why should she?" retorted the man, almost savagely.
Nancy shifted her feet uneasily.
"That's the way I felt, too—till I happened ter think—it would be easier if she could find somethin', ye know. So I tried to—to remind her."
"To remind her! Of what?" John Pendleton's voice was still angrily impatient.
"Of—of how she told others ter play it—Mis' Snow, and the rest, ye know—and what she said for them ter do. But the poor little lamb just
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