told. It is dinner time, and the children are all
in from school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He has
been his wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, and has
just returned to share the midday meal which the mother serves. In all
conscience the meal is limited enough, but we notice that Jones gets an
undue proportion, and we wonder whether the supply will go round.

We see that the children are next served in their order, the elder
obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, last of
all--Mrs. Jones.

It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her case there
is little to reward her in the shape of food.

To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for years,
that thousands of poor men's wives go through years of hard work,
and frequent times of motherhood on an amount of food that must be
altogether inadequate.

Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny themselves food,
but clothing, and all those little personal adornments that are so dear
to the heart of women. There is no heroism to equal it. It only ends
when the children have all passed out of hand, and then it is too late,
for in her case appetite has not been developed with eating, so that
when the day comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is
lacking.

It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, and does
not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so that every second
year she has borne a child. The dark rings beneath her eyes tell of
protracted hours of work, and the sewing-machine underneath the window
tells us that she supplements the earnings of her husband by making old
clothes into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their
children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that her
own children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we have seen
disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just before the cheap
butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. Jones bought one pound
and a half of pieces, and, with the aid of two onions and some potatoes,
converted them into a nourishing stew.

Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' and
watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful sight, and
when one by one the women have made their bargains, we notice that the
shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and odds and ends.

So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her f