Article September 12, 1977 Issue

Angie's Story

Alice Taylor Reed

Angie leaped off the school bus. She ran down the lane to her front door, raced upstairs to her room, dropped her school books, and grabbed a warm jacket. She was out of the house in less than five minutes.

She kicked a stone in front of her and briskly walked down the country road to the farm where Babe was stabled. The air felt cold, and Angie wished she had brought some heavier gloves. She stuck her hands in her pockets—there wasn't time to go back home. These winter afternoons were so short as it was, and she wanted to use every moment of remaining daylight to ride Babe.

The barn door was open, and Angie went right to Babe's stall. She slid the bolt back to open the stall door. When she reached up to pat Babe, her hand felt something prickly. Angie climbed up on the swinging half-door for a closer look. Babe's mane was full of burrs.

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