measured and cut for the loom. There were scutchens for dressing flax,
carding combs, spinning wheels, and the great wooden loom with shafts
reaching almost to the ceiling.

It was prime fun for Roberta to go down to the loom-house in the long
winter evenings, and, sitting down before the open fire-place, help Polly
and the others card the wool in long, smooth "curls," and pile them in
even layers, ready for the spinner.

It required deft fingers, too, to gather together all the bits of wool
caught on the many sharp teeth of the carding comb, and that, by working
the two parts of the comb up and down, like a see-saw, then turning them
over and smoothing the rolls with the back.

Those were busy days on the farms in old Kentucky, and happy days,
besides. The very best days for many, both white and black. That
afternoon I will tell you about especially, Mam' Sarah had a
bright-colored rag carpet in the loom. There she sat, her eyes fixed
intently on the pattern before her, shuttles carrying the black, red, and
orange filling flying in and out under her deft, busy fingers. Many a
strip of that gay filling had the little girl cut, sewed, and wrapped.
Mam' Sarah raised her eyes and smiled at the child, but didn't stop
working.

"Don't it tire you Mam' Sarah?" Roberta once compassionately asked.

"No, indeed, honey! Pear-lak I got sumfin' in my elbers en sumfin' in my
knees that keeps on goen, sumfin' like springs. I never gits tired. I
likes it."