I Was a Nailing Began Joel

Franzie was crouching, a miserable little heap of wool, in one corner of the mother's big calico-covered rocking chair. Joe hung over her in the utmost concern. Polly tore off the little old shoe, and well-worn stocking, and brought to light Franzie's fat little foot. Tenderly taking hold of the white toes, she worked them back and forth and up and down. Nothing's broken, she said at last, and drew a long breath. She began to wiggle the big toe, where around the nail was settling a small black spot. Joel: The old hammer was a shaking and Franzie stuck her foot in the way, and I