"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 cries, an' says it don't seem the same, somehow. She says it's easy ter TELL lifelong invalids how ter be glad, but 'tain't the same thing when you're the lifelong invalid yerself, an' have ter try ter do it. She says she's told herself over an' over again how glad she is that other folks ain't like her; but that all the time she's sayin' it, she ain't really THINKIN' of anythin' only how she can't ever walk again."