Ye see it's all so fresh an' new to her, an' she keeps thinkin' all the time of new things she can't do--NOW.

It worries her, too, 'cause she can't seem ter be glad--maybe you don't know about her game, though," broke off Nancy, apologetically.
"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.