"Mother!" he cried. "I know what you can do for me. I want a pair of
wristers--red ones, just like those you used to knit!"
* * * * *
It must have been a month later that John Wetherby, with his two elder
sons, turned the first corner that carried him out of sight of his
house. Very slowly, and with gentle fingers, he pulled off two bright
red wristers. He folded them, patted them, then tucked them away in an
inner pocket.
"Bless her dear heart!" he said softly. "You should have seen her eyes
shine when I put them on this morning!"
"I can imagine it," said one of his sons in a curiously tender voice.
The other one smiled, and said whimsically, "I can hardly wait for
mine!" Yet even as he spoke his eyes grew dim with a sudden moisture.
Back at the house John's mother was saying to John's wife: "Did you see
them on him, Margaret?--John's wristers? They did look so bright and
pretty! And I'm to make more, too; did you know? Frank and Edward want
some; John said so. He told them about his, and they wanted some right
away. Only think, Margaret," she finished, lifting with both hands the
ball of red worsted and pressing it close to her cheek, "I've got two
whole pairs to make now!"
The Giving Thanks of Cyrus and Huldah
For two months Cyrus Gregg and his wife Huldah had not spoken to each
other, yet all the while they had lived under the same roof, driven to
church side by side, and attended various festivities and church prayer-
meetings together.
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