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Show Chapter Three Frank, I sure miss our walks and talks. Remember our dreams of going to San Francisco-seeing the ships come ingoing to the opera? Now you're gone and I'm crippled. That's a fine do-flicky, don't you know! The doctor says I'm going to have to use a wheelchair, but I won't. I just won't! I'll walk again. I've been promised a long life and I won't spend it in a wheelchair. I know I had problems about being baptized, but that was only because I turned eight such a short time after your accident . . . "Papa, do I have to be baptized?" Nettie's clear blue eyes looked steadily at Papa as the wagon and horses rumbled toward Evanston. He glanced at his daughter perched beside him on the wagon seat. "What's on your mind, girl?" he questioned. "When you're baptized, you promise a lot of things, right, Papa?" "That's right enough, Nettie." "Well, I'm not praying anymore, Papa." There was a silence for a long moment. "I see. What keeps you from praying, child?" Papa asked quietly, though he was sure he knew the answer. "I prayed hard for Frank. I prayed so hard I know I couldn't have |