Papa said, “You’re going to see a scramble as soon as we round that bend.”
It was more of a stampede than a scramble. The little one came out first, and all but tore the screen door from its hinges.
The older girls passed her just beyond the gate. In her hurry, she slipped and fell face down in the snow.
She started crying. The older girls ran up asking for the cup.
Holding it high over my head, I said, “Now wait a minute. I’ve got another one for you two.”
I held the small silver cup out to them. While they were fighting over it, I ran to the little one.
Picking her up, I brushed the snow from her long, braided hair and her tear-stained face.
I told her there was no use to cry. I had brought the gold cup to her, and no one else was going to get it.
Reaching for the cup, she wrapped her small arms around it.
Squeezing it up tight, she ran for the house to show it to Mama.
Mama came out on the porch. She was just as excited as the girls were.
She held out her arms. I ran to her. She hugged me and kissed me.
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