He read a very spirited reply. I recognized at once that some of it was his own experience.
"Oh, father!" I cried, delighted, "you wrote it yourself. It's splendid! And you ought to have it printed."
"Good enough for that, eh?" He gave his quizzical smile and twinkled his eyes.
"Oh, yes; can't you have it put in the Prairie Farmer?"
"Well," with a sort of amused deliberateness, "I had thought a little of that, since they are inviting plain farmer people to air their wisdom. Do you think you could copy it, not in a scratchy girl's hand, but one easy to read? Sit here and try. I'm tired and feel like a clock with its machinery running down. By the great boot! I wonder if I am only to be half a man the rest of my life!" and he gave a groan.
"But the better half is in good order, your head and your hands, and Dr. Carpenter is sure you will improve as soon as the weather is pleasant enough to get out."
I arranged the little table just beside him. I was happy to see him so interested. Then I began on odd slips of paper to see what I could do writing large. Father looked them over. I suppose it would have made a modern girl nervous, but we knew nothing about nerves in those days, and then I was so intent upon pleasing him. My whole heart had been full of sympathy all winter. I had never seen any one helpless before but a baby.
"This I think will do. And you write only on one side of the paper."
"Oh, dear," I cried, aghast, "think of all the paper it will take!"
He made a funny little moue, as the French call it. Paper was dear and poor. Foolscap was in general use.