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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Thankful's Inheritance"


See!"
She held up the lantern. The window was "abreast" of them, but also it
was a trifle high.
"It ain't fastened," shouted Thankful; she was obliged to shout in order
to be heard. "I could push it open a little mite from the bottom, but
I couldn't reach to get it up all the way. You can if I steady you, I
guess. Here! Put your foot on that box. I lugged it around from the back
yard on purpose."
Standing on an empty and shaky cranberry crate and held there by the
strong arm of Mrs. Barnes, Emily managed to push up the lower half
of the window. The moment she let go of it, however, it fell with a
tremendous bang.
"One of the old-fashioned kind, you might know," declared Thankful. "No
weights nor nothin'. We'll have to prop it up with a stick. You wait
where you are and I'll go get one. There's what's left of a woodpile out
back here; that's where that crate came from."
She hastened away and was back in a moment with a stout stick. Emily
raised the window once more and placed the stick beneath it.
"There!" panted her companion. "We've got a gangway anyhow. Next thing
is to get aboard. You come down and give me a boost."
But Emily declined.
"Of course I shan't do any such thing," she declared, indignantly. "I
can climb through that window a great deal easier than you can, Auntie.
I'm ever so much younger. Just give me a push, that's all."
Her cousin demurred. "I hate to have you do it," she said. "For anybody
that ain't any too strong or well you've been through enough tonight.


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