the crust of very dry bread--but healthy from their day's long breathing
of pure air. But Sam only exchanged the close city warehouse, with its
disagreeable smell of leather, for that of a room in which his mother
and sisters breathed most of the day the smoky air among the chimney
tops. In he came, only too glad to rest, and thankful for the warm tea
his mother had ready for him. And then he showed his treasure of pieces
of leather, such a big bundle this time, that little Susan clapped her
hands quite gaily; and his mother said that there was enough for a half
score dozen of balls at least!

"The poor widow made leather balls to sell to a toy shop; her eldest
girl, Jemima, always called Jemmie, made little toy bedsteads, for she
had been lame from her birth. Little Susan, the youngest, helped as well
as she could by making the little bolsters and mattresses for the dolls'
bedsteads, which were to form the toys of luckier and younger children.
She was a grave little morsel, with long thin, _thin_ limbs, and hollow
cheeks--but she would have been pretty, with her large soft blue eyes
and long yellow hair, if she had been well fed and healthy.

"Their mother took the box of leather scraps from Sam, and having made
him comfortable at his meagre tea, she began at once to arrange her
work; for the last week she had quite used up all her scraps, and had
been obliged to use her spare time in helping Jemmie with the bedsteads.
So she picked out the colours, and laid her card patterns on them, and
cut them with as little waste as possible, and as I was the first ball
she finished that evening, I saw and heard all that ensued.

"'Are you very tired Sam,' she asked, 'you're late home to-night.
However, to-morrow is blessed Sunday, and you can take your rest with
all the other poor creatures God has made His holiday for.'

"'Oh yes, mother,' said Jemmie, her sallow face quite lighted up, 'and
we can have another walk in the Park, you know. Only I wish I could walk
better, it is such slow work hopping along.'

"'So it is, Jemmie,' replied her mother, sighing, 'but thank God, child,
you don't keep your bed; that would break my heart. I hope it'll please
Him to spare me _that_ sorrow, and then I'll be contented if you can
only crawl like a snail.'

"'I wish it was treat time,' said little Susan; 'oh, how we did enjoy
it, mother! if only you had been there! Oh, they were such grand trees
in the forest, mother, they seemed to re