cried a lot, always seemed to be wearing a wet flannelette diaper, drank from a bottle with a big red nipple on it, and required a lot of attention that used to be mine. At three months of age she contacted whooping cough and was very ill. One morning after all the children had gone to school, my mother put a coat on me and told me to run next door to summon the doctor, as our neighbour had the only phone in the area. It was frosty that morning and as I ran across the green patch wearing my brother's new gum shoes, I remember look¬ ing at the white frost on the ground and the little sprigs of wheat etched into the rubber on the boot toes and realizing the boots were on the wrong feet. I knocked on the kitchen door and eventually the woman of the house came and looked out of the high window in the door, but she could not see me, so she went back to her morning chores. I then went to her front door and rapped. She looked out of the high win¬ dow in that door, and not seeing anyone again retreated. So I returned to the kitchen door and this time kicked it several times with the result that a white scratch appeared on one toe of the new gum shoes and I felt I would be punished for making a mark on them but did not know what else to do. Again she looked out the high window, but this time I called out, on the verge of tears. She finally opened the door and was able to deliver my message, adding "Mama said to give it importance." The doctor and his nurse came and ministered to the baby which was so congested it could hardly breathe, but it seemed futile. She was blue and lifeless and eventually the doctor abandoned the fight to save her and went on his way to attend to his other patients. But the nurse remained, unable to give the baby up to its fate. I remember her crouching in front of the oven, holding the baby inside to absorb the heat. What other ministrations she performed were beyond my understanding. To everyone's relief the baby survived. She is my younger sister Jean who just celebrated her 60th birth¬ day (1992). MRS . ELLIS' HOUSE BURNS I started school when I was five years old. The school grades 1 to 4 were taught in the "Little Room." There was no indoor plumbing and the "back-house" was located at the back of the school yard. On one of the first spring days I was returning from a visit, reluctant to go inside out of the sunshine, wandering through the school yard, looking at spring slowly taking shape around me. When I raised my eyes to watch a flock of birds flying overhead, my sight was drawn to 353