al history, and she and her father read about
elephants most of the evening.

The days were so pleasant that the children often took Daisy out in her
chair to see them at their plays. They went around to Houston Street, to
the German settlement, as it was beginning to be called. Lena and
Gretchen were out on their stoop with their knitting, and the baby
between them. They were Lutherans, and they looked quite different from
the Jews.

There were still quaint old houses in Ludlow and Orchard streets,--two
stories with dormer windows in the roof, and some frame cottages with
struggling grass-plots. No one dreamed of the tall tenements that were
to take their places, the sewing-machines that were to hum while the
workers earned their scanty pittance, and swarms of children crowded the
streets.

Everybody had more leisure then. Some of the women sat and chatted while
their little ones played about.

A little girl came out of an alley way with a peculiar jerky movement,
like a hop and a skip, while she kept one hand on her knee. Her hip was
large, her shoulder pushed up and apparently bent over.

"Hello!" she said to Hanny. "What's the matter with her?" nodding her
head. "Wish't I had a cheer like that. I'd cut a great swell. My! ain't
she pritty?"

"She's been ill," returned Hanny.

The child stared a moment and then hopped on.

"Her father works about the stable," explained Hanny, with rising
colour. "She comes up sometimes. They're very poor. Mother gives them
ever so many things. She can't stand up straight; but she doesn't seem
to mind. And one leg is so much shorter. The boys call her Cricket, and
Limpy Dick."

"Oh, Hanny, if I were poor and like that!" The tears came in Daisy's
eyes. "I can stand up straight, and I am getting to walk quite well. I
have so much that is lovely and comforting; and oughtn't one be thankful
not to be real poor?"

The little lameter went hopping across the street, and called to some
children "to look at the style!"

Down by the corner there was a candy and notion store, kept by an old
woman with a queer wrinkled face framed in with a wide cap-ruffle. She
had a funny turned-up nose, as if it had hardly known which way to grow,
and such round red-apple cheeks. When it was pleasant, she sat in the
doorway, regardless of the fate of the heroic young woman of Norway.

"Good day!" she ejaculated. "The Lord bless ye. Yon's got a pretty face,
an' I hope it will bring her good fortun