THE WONDER-BALL | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 18, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 11.

THE WONDER-BALL.

DORA lay on a bed of pain. This active, frolicsome girl had suddenly been doomed to the shaded light, the tedious quiet, and the physical suffering of the sick-room. A fall on the ice while skating had done the mischief. It was very hard, harder because of her full health and high spirits, for she sorely missed the fresh air, the company of her mates, and the world's bright things generally.

"Poor gay bird," the doctor said, "she has a broken wing, indeed. She will flutter and struggle for her freedom for a while, but by and by she will be patient and make the best of it."

By degrees the extreme pain diminished, and that was relief. To have the curtain lifted a bit and a chink of light let in was another step in advance; then her brother was allowed to see her, then a friend or two for a few minutes at a time. This was encouraging, but very slow.

"Is the skating good yet? and do you have lots of fun?" she asked wistfully of the two little friends who had come in to sit a half hour with her after school.

"Oh, lots of fun! How do you bear it lying here all day?" said Alice. "It must seem fearfully long and dreary."

"It does, sometimes," sighed Dora. Then, brightening, "But mamma has promised me I may invite some of the girls to tea if I keep on gaining. I have always had the promise of a party when I was twelve years old, and that will be in two weeks."

"Can you get up and stand on your feet then?" cried Alice, joyfully.

"Oh, no! but I can see the rest play, and I am to have as many girls as I am years old."

Caryl saw something peeping out from under Dora's pillow.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've been learning to knit," said Dora, "and there's nothing amuses me so; it's almost better than stories."

They examined the pink and blue strip she spread out before them on the white bedcover, and asked what it was for.

"Nothing," she said, "only just to be busy."

"Why don't you knit an afghan?" asked Caryl, who was an industrious, housewifely girl. "I know a lovely stitch."

"I shouldn't know what colors to choose—or anything," said Dora; "and it would take so long."

"I can show you. I'll bring mine for you to see. I am making it for Aunt Gretchen, who is an invalid."

The thought pleased Dora almost as much as that of the party. It would be something to beguile her many long, lonely, restless moments.

When Caryl and Alice had said good-night, and gone out upon the street, Caryl burst out with great excitement, "Oh, I have such a splendid idea, I could hardly keep it to myself till we got away!"

"What is it? what about?" asked Alice in some amazement.

"A present for Dora—a birthday present. My Aunt Gretchen has told me of a gift the Germans make which they call a wonder-ball. Let's make one for Dora!"

"How can we? I don't know how."

"I'll tell you. You know the German women are great knitters. They get a quantity of bright wool for any purpose they have in mind—say an afghan. Each friend buys a gift—a small one is best—and they get together and begin to wind the yarn. A gift is at the center of the ball. Around this is enough of the yarn to hide it entirely, when another gift is added, and so on, until all the presents are included and the yarn wound."

"How very curious! How are they gotten out?"

"They are knitted out. The one who receives the wonder-ball is requested not to unwind any faster than the actual knitting requires."

"Oh, I see! There is always a present to come as long as the ball lasts."

"Yes. You can see how interesting it makes it. There's no telling how many things are wound up in it, and as soon as you've reached one you are nearly crazy to get at the rest."

"We'll make one! we'll make one!" cried Alice. "Won't poor Dora be delighted?"

An afternoon was set for the winding, and after school a flock of the twelve girls who had received Dora's invitations to her birthday tea-party met at Caryl's house, who, as the most experienced one, had been asked to buy the wool.

Each had a little box with her card tied upon the top with a ribbon. Caryl had chosen wools of the brightest, most attractive colors, and by the time they were all wound, and the gifts inclosed, it made a ball almost as big as a bushel basket.

"How shall we carry it, and where will she keep it?" cried one.

"Mamma has a large scrap-basket she says we may have," said Caryl. "I'll put pretty ribbons on the handles and make it look festive. Bob will take it over for us on his sled."

Dora was gaining fast of late, and though she could not leave her bed, she found great pleasure and diversion in the birthday preparations. When the hour for the party arrived, her little friends came in in a body, bearing the wonder-ball among them. Dora laughed more like her old self than she had before in weeks. She was dazzled and delighted with the thought of having a series of unknown presents ahead.

"I presume I'll get about one a week, if I work hard," she said.

"More than that, if you like to knit as well as I do," said Caryl.

"I surely shall like to now. I can hardly wait to begin."

There was a pair of white ivory needles stuck in the ball, and while the other children played games, Caryl took a seat by Dora's bed, set up the knitting, and showed her how to begin. It was a very pretty stitch, and she forgot about her helplessness while she practiced it. The party was pronounced delightful, but when the guests were gone, they left behind them a wonderful source of pleasure.

"The very name sounds as if it came from fairy land," said Dora.

The bit of knitting Caryl had set up Dora kept for a pattern, and the next day she began upon the afghan in earnest.

"I lay awake in the night and thought what I could do with it when it's done," she said to her mother. "You know poor little Biddy Ryan. She is worse sick than I am, and of course can never walk, since she is paralyzed. If the girls think it right, I shall give it to her."

The first present that was unwound, after many busy stitches, was a beautiful gold thimble. It had Caryl's name on the card.

"She means I shan't be lazy," cried Dora, holding it up, delighted.

According as its little owner was industrious or idle, did the wonder-ball unroll its treasures. Each had a surprise of its own; in one was a loving note; with another was a bit of original verse; with another a painted card. It lasted weeks and weeks, for Dora's mother would not allow her to confine herself too closely to the knitting. By the time the last gift was unwound, she had so gained in strength she could sit by the window and watch for her friends' visits. They came and helped her join the strips and make the fringe, and the day Caryl's brother came to carry it for her to little Biddy Ryan for her birthday present, Dora took her first step since her fall.

"I wish everybody could have as good a time being sick as I have had," she said. "The doctor thinks the wonder-ball cured me, for it made me so contented. And how proud Biddy Ryan will be of her bright coverlet! I wish the wonder-ball might cure her, too."—Selected.