ng, and Charles
felt quite happy because he had not eaten the bread of idleness. So he
went out to work with Giles again, and earned twopence before dinner.

When Dame Bloomfield took up the dumplings Charles saw there was one for
him, and he felt happy that poor Giles had not to deprive himself of
half his food that he might eat.

Charles went out to work every day with Giles, and in the evening he
learned to read and write. He became quite good and gentle, and enjoyed
more happiness than he had experienced in his life before. And why was
Charles happy? I will tell you, my dear children. Because he was no
longer a proud, froward boy as he had been, but was kind and
sweet-tempered to everyone, and did his duty both to God and himself.

The winter passed swiftly away, and the spring came, and the birds began
to sing, and the trees looked green and gay, and the pretty flowers
bloomed in the gardens and covered the meadows all over, and scented the
air with their fragrance, and Charles thought it very pleasant to work
in the fields, and hear the birds sing as they tended their young, or
built their nests among the green boughs or in the hedges.

One day Giles said to Charles: 'Master Charles, we cannot work together
in the fields any more; I have got a new employment.'

'But why cannot I work with you?' asked Charles.

'Because, sir, you will not like to work where I am going,' answered
Giles. Charles asked where that was. 'In the garden of the great house,
Master Charles, where you used to live,' said Giles.

Charles looked very sorrowful, and remained silent for some minutes; at
last he said: 'Well, Giles, I will go with you; my clothes are grown
shabby now, and nobody will know me, and if they did I hope I am too
wise to be ashamed of doing my duty, so let us go directly.'

Then Giles took Charles into the garden, and the gardener gave them each
a hoe and a rake, and told them to hoe up the weeds on the flower
borders, and then rake them neatly over, and promised if they worked
well he would give them eightpence per day.

Now this was much pleasanter than picking stones in the field, but
Charles was very sad, and could not refrain from shedding tears when he
thought of the time when he used to play in that very garden, and he
thought, too, of his dear mamma who was dead, and of his sister Clara,
whom he had not seen for so many months, but he worked as hard as he
could, and the gardener praised them both, and h