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Show Nettie, Page 71 and upper lip. In her mind's eye she kept the picture of herself, walking, even running. At first her progress was measured in fractions of an inch. She could move each foot only barely measurable amounts. To Papa and Mama who watched occasionally from a window or from another part of the lot, Nettie seemed merely to be standing still, straining against the barbed wire. But to Nettie, every tiny part of an inch that each foot moved was a link in the long chain of steps she would have to take before she could move freely once more. All summer long the hard work continued. "Work hard, Nettie," was the Colonel's advice and Nettie worked hard - desperately hard. Papa's heart nearly broke when he saw his exhausted daughter pulling and straining to walk. "Rest a while, child," Papa cautioned. "I can rest all night, Papa. I've got to keep working during the day," Nettie gasped out. To herself she repeated through clenched teeth, "I've been a good girl, I know the Lord won't let me remain a cripple." Morning and night Nettie rubbed and massaged the stiffened, atrophied legs. And ever so slowly the legs began to respond. The progress was a chingly slow, but there came a day when Nettie looked down on her legs as she sat in bed and the angle of her legs was greater. And when she stood, it was a little bit straighter. When she moved she could tell she had moved. Near the end of summer, after nearly a year of the paralysis, Nettie called to Mama and Papa. "Look, come look at me!" she shouted. They both ran out of the house and into the yard not knowing what |