||good job and hammered so many nails in the roof moved in. He was meticulous ir, everything he did. Each spring he crawled over our entire lawn and cut out each dandelion with a pocket knife. Our kitchen table had one drawer where pencils and pens. He could tell if anyone even our house had its own place and was never out of order. These two front windows disclosed a view led to Main Street where everyone went each day to visit with the townsmen in front of the Mercantile Store or Uncle Murel' s garage. I remember when Grace Lee, our neighbor girl, was sweeping the porch so vigorously that she tipped over the doll buggy and my doll, Rosemary, fell out and broke her china head. Just a week before I had taken Phyllis with me to tend the sheep as they grazed on the ditch banks. She was a beauti ful doi 1 with dark brown ringlets and a blue organdy dress. When mother called me to come in, I put Phyllis under the culvert and drove the sheep to the corral. Not until 9; 30 p. m., time for bed, did I remember Phyllis. We took flash lights and went too look for her--but she was gone! Many tears were shed for the lost doll. Here it was June and I had no doll. It was a long time before Christmas. Mother and Daddy decided it was critical enough to warrant a trip to Salt Lake. I remember that ride in our Ford sedan with the trunk on the back. 1 sat cozily between Mother and Daddy in the front seat. We hazel brown glass eyes. She was beautiful and I held her tight all the way home. For many years, June 11th was a holiday at our house--Hazel's birthday--and we celebrated with birthday cake, candles, and a doll party.