of the big sheep-men and got permission to take the "dogie" lambs,
which they are glad to give away. She had plenty of cows, so she milked
cows and fed lambs all day long all last year. This year she has forty
head of nice sheep worth four dollars each, and she doesn't have to
feed them the year round as she would chickens, and the wolves are no
worse to kill sheep than they are to kill chickens. When shearing-time
came she went to a sheep-man and told him she would help cook for his
men one week if he would have her sheep sheared with his. She said her
work was worth three dollars, that is what one man would get a day
shearing, and he could easily shear her sheep in one day. That is how
she got her sheep sheared. The man had her wool hauled to town with
his, sold it for her, and it brought sixty dollars. She took her money
to Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. She wanted some supplies ordered before she went
home, because, as she gravely said, "the rheumatiz would get all the
money she had left when she got home,"--meaning that her grandparents
would spend what remained for medicine.

The poor old grandparents read all the time of wonderful cures that
different dopes accomplish, and they spend every nickel they can get
their hands on for nostrums. They try everything they read of, and have
to buy it by the case,--horrid patent stuff! They have rolls of
testimonials and believe every word, so they keep on trying and hoping.
When there is any money they each order whatever medicine they want to
try. If Mrs. Edmonson's doesn't seem to help her, Grandpa takes it and
she takes his,--that is their idea of economy. They would spend hours
telling you about their different remedies and would offer you spoonful
after spoonful of vile-looking liquid, and be mildly grieved when you
refused to take it. Grandma's hands are so bent and twisted that she
can't sew, so dear old Grandpa tries to do it.

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy told me that she helped out when she could. Three
years ago she made them all a complete outfit, but the "rheumatiz" has
been getting all the spare money since then, so there has been nothing
to sew. A peddler sold them a piece of gingham which they made up for
Cora Belle. It was broad pink and white stripes, and they wanted some
style to "Cory's" clothes, so they cut a gored skirt. But they had no
pattern and made the gores by folding a width of the goods biasly and
cutting it that way. It was put together with no regard to matching