Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom:–Oh, I can–I can–I can walk! I did to-day all the way from my bed to the window! It was six steps. My, how good it was to be on legs again!
All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all the nurses stood beside of them and cried. A lady in the next ward who walked last week first, peeked into the door, and another one who hopes she can walk next month, was invited in to the party, and she laid on my nurse’s bed and clapped her hands. Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked through the piazza window and called me ‘Honey, child’ when she wasn’t crying too much to call me anything.
I don’t see why they cried. I wanted to sing and shout and yell! Oh–oh–oh! just think, I can walk–walk–walk! Now I don’t mind being here almost ten months, and I didn’t miss the wedding, anyhow. Wasn’t that just like you, Aunt Polly, to come on here and get married right beside my bed, so I could see you. You always do think of the gladdest things!
Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish I could walk all the way there. I do. I don’t think I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It will be so good just to walk. Oh, I’m so glad! I’m glad for everything. Why, I’m glad now I lost my legs for a while, for you never, never know how perfectly lovely legs are till you haven’t got them–that go, I mean. I’m going to walk eight steps to-morrow.
With heaps of love to everybody,