Emma Speed Sampson

“ She looked so sweet and patient sitting there in her chair and waving to me as cheerfully as though she expected to be one of the party. I left her in our garden where she loves to wheel her chair.”
“Who is Irene?” asked Bob Dulaney.
“Oh, Irene MacFarlane is my very best friend,” explained Mary Louise. “She is lame and has to spend all her waking hours in a wheel chair. She gets around remarkably well, but can’t go anywhere unless there is an elevator, as stairs are too much for her. I do wish Josie and Elizabeth could have found a place on the ground floor, just for Irene’s sake.” ”

“ I am no good except to carry on,” insisted Bob. “Must I tell anyone you are gone?”
“No, I live right next door, but Aunt Hannah is out and she will know I am with Mary Louise if I’m not at home.”
“Here is your hat, so tie it on,” he said, taking a pretty garden hat from the back of Irene’s chair. “What a nice hat! I certainly do like hats that have some raison d’etre. Now this hat really shades and still one can see under it,” he laughed, peeping under the brim and, without any by your leave, he stooped and picked Irene up in his strong arms and started for the car. ”

“ The consequence was in those slender arms and well formed shoulders there was a great deal of strength and under the artistic tapering of her fingers there was concealed a grip of steel. The lines of her figure were good. Nature had meant her for a “perfect woman, nobly planned,” but the disease which had attacked her in infancy had withered and enfeebled the lower limbs. ”