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Our Boys and Girls
THE KNITTED SCARF. Lucille Pinckney went home with two big hanks of gray yarn in her knitting bag. "I have to make a scarf," she explained rather proudly, "a scarf to send away to a soldier." Mrs. Pinckney smiled. "That's splendid," she said. "If every girl makes only one scarf, there'll be a number to send away. We all must do what we can." Lucille nodded. "I'll like to make it," she said. "At least, I think I shall." Grandmother Pinckney looked up from her own knitting. "I)o you know how to make a scarf, Lucille?" she asked. "Oh, yes. It's just plain knitting. I could do that when I was six." "Then why did you say you thought you'd like it?" "Because a scarf is so long. I'm not sure that I shall keep on liking to the end. There are fifty stitches to a row, and the scarf has to be sixty-eight inches long. That'll mean an awful lot of rows. Maybe I shall not like the last as well as the first. "You'll be so used to it then that your needles will fly. It will seem like play to you." * "I want to begin it right away. Grand mother, will you help me with the yarn?" Grandmother would and did. Presently the two big balls were ready. Lucille took up her new needles. "Now watch me fly!" she said. She worked away faithfully until time to prepare her lessons for the following day, but bhe had made little showing. "It'll go faster after a while," her mother and grandmother encoxiraged her. Lucille made a wry face. "I never worked so long at anything and had so little to show for it," she said. "Have patience. It will grow." And day by day it did grow. In a week or so she had a creditable showing. She took it to high school every day, and managed to get a few rows done each noon time. "You'll have it done in no time," her father praised her. "I know where to come now when I want a pair of heavy socks." Lucille laughed as he pinched her ear. "I'm afraid you'd grow out of them before I had them finished," she said. One day the Red Cross sent out a hurry call for the scarfs. Lucille sat up late at night and was able to turn hers in the same time that the other girls did. She gave a sigh of relief. "I never was so glad to get rid of any thing," she said. "It was well done," said her mother. "And you have learned to knit so much faster than you did at first." "But I was pretty tired of it." Grandmother Pinckney looked up and smiled. "You're too tired of knitting to make a white-and-rose-colored sweater for yourself?" she said. Lucille 's eyes sparkled. "O-h-h!" she cried. "O grandmother!" "If you aren't too tired, I know where the yarn is to be found ? in my top dresser drawer. Go get itl" Lucille ran ! She was back in a moment, her cheeks matching the rose-colored yarn. "I never was so glad in my life," she said. "It'll be just the thir.g for the boat ride." "That's what I bought it for. Do you know how to make a sweater, Lucille? I don't ? at least, I never have made one of those slip-on sweaters that you said you wanted." "No, grandmother, I don't know how, but Louise does. She has made half a dozen. She said she'd help me any time. Oh, I can hardly wait! All the girls have slip-on sweaters and I've wanted one for so long." "Well, we'll wind the yarn and then you may run over and ask Louise to help you." Lucille came back with the sweater started. "It's easy," she said, "and Louise says it will go rapidly." Mr. Pinckney whistled when he saw the gay colored yarn. "Well, little daughter, are you going to turn the soldiers out in the national colors?" "This is my sweater. Grandmother bought it for me." "So you're going to let the soldiers shift for themselves, while you knit a sweater for your self?" "We're out of yarn at school," Lucille told him triumphantly. "But we're still doing Red Cross work on Thursdays. We're making bandages." "Well, success to your sweater!" Lucille worked with the diligence that makes for success, and the sweater grew even faster than the scarf had done. When Rodney and Louise Grant eame over in the evening, Lucille made no pretense of entertaining them. "I have to finish this sweater for the boat ride," she explained. "Rodney, you play checkers with father, and Louise and I will talk while I work." "I don't believe an old sweater is worth all the work you put into it!" Rodney complained. "You haven't had a minute for weeks. And before the sweater it was a scarf." "The scarf is finished, and I'll have the sweater finished in a little while. You'll see." "Then it'll be something else," Rodney said pessimistically. "When this is done I shall be free for awhile," Lucille cheered him. "And we'll play tennis and checkers till you're tired." "I'll believe it when I see it. I've noticed that when anything like that starts it doesn't stop right away. You'll have something else on hand before you finish that, Lucille." Lucille was sure that she wouldn't, but the following day brought the work, as Rodney had prophesied. Yarn for another scarf was given to each girl. Lucille took hers without comment. But as soon as school was out, she spoke to Louise. "0 Louise, what shall I do? The boat ride is next week. I did want to look nice. I never can finish both the sweater and the scarf." "I thought of that when they were giving out the yarn," said Louise. "But what can you do about it? They're in a hurry for the scarfs. We have to rush them. And every girl has a scarf except Doris. She says knitting makes her nervous. She never has helped a bit. She '8 the only girl who won't be busy ? and the only girl who wouldn't be willing to give you a hand." "I know. I'll have to let the sweater go, I suppose, after I've worked so hard and had set ray heart on wearing it, too." ''Well, never mind. You'll look well what ever you wear." At home, the downcast face of Lucille did not escape the eyes of either mother or grand mother. "What's the matter!" they cried. "Has anything happened to your sweater?" "Yes." "O Lucille, that '8 too bad. I advised you not to take it to scohol. You were getting on well enough at home. Is it spoiled?" "Don't bother, Lucille," cheered her grand mother. "I've yet to see the spot 1 couldn't get out in some sort of fashion. I'll fix your sweater." "Oh, you can't, grandmother," Lucille re plied. "Thank you for offering. No one can fix the sweater. There isn't any spot on it. I can't finish it, because I have to make another scarf!" "Another so soon?" "The poor soldiers!" "I'd like to make another scarf, later," Lucille answered, a little sulkily; "but I did want my sweater for the boat ride. [ can't help if it's selfish, I wanted that sweater the worst way. All the other girls have sweaters." "Perhaps you can get it done, too." Lucille shook her head. ' ' I have to rush on the scarf. They are to be sent away very soon. I can't touch the sweater till the scarf is finished. And the boat ride is next week." "Well, you ought to be glad to make a Ut ile sacrifice" ? began her mother. Hut Grandmother Pinckney touched Lu cille 's hair with a tender hand. "A little sacrifice is a big sacrifice at four teen," she said. "I know how the child feels. I wish I could help her." And suddenly her eyes brightened. "I'll finish your sweater for you, Lucille, dear! You'll have it in time for the boat ride, after all." The arms of Lucille stole around her grand mother's neck, even while she shook her head. Grandmother certainly was a dear. "You couldn't, grandmother. Everyone knits differently. They told us that in school, and said that every girl must finish her own scarf." Grandmother caught at the last word. "But the scarf, dear. The scarf isn't touched. There'll be no difference in that. I'll knit it for you and you can finish your sweater." "O grandmother!" Lucille said gratefully, "how you always help me out!" "That's what grandmothers are for." Lucille held the yarn while her grandmother wound it. That was the last that she had to do with the scarf. She knitted busily away at her sweater, singing while she worked. "I'll have it done in lots of time," she con gratulated herself. The knitting of the scarf, too, went on apace. Lucille, watching her grandmother's fingers fly, marveled. "It's wonderful how you can knit so beau tifully and not watch your work!" she said. "It doesn't seem a bit of a burden to you." "It isn't," her grandmother smiled. "I like to knit. And I have many years of experience back of me." The scarf was finished before the sweater. Lucille could not praise it enough. "It doesn't look a hit like the scarf I knit,"