Row of Wooden Beads

I waddled back inside from the patio and found a quiet spot near the low bookshelf. Resting beside a neat stack of journals was a small wooden counting abacus with gleaming brass rods. I paused politely, tilting my head at the rows of smooth, dark cherry-wood beads. Reaching up with both small arms, I gave the first bead a gentle push. Click! It slid effortlessly across the wire to the other side. One by one, I nudged each bead along the rail with patient, polite taps until five of them rested together in a tidy row. The soft clicking sounded just like tiny footsteps on a quiet evening.