uld smile on her," said
Eleanor; "one baby exhausts my stock of virtues very rapidly."

"But you ought to see her baby," said Aunt E.; "so plump, so rosy, and
good-natured, and always clean as a lily. This baby is a sort of
household shrine; nothing is too sacred or too good for it; and I
believe the little thrifty woman feels only one temptation to be
extravagant, and that is to get some ornaments to adorn this little
divinity."

"Why, did she ever tell you so?"

"No; but one day, when I was coming down stairs, the door of their room
was partly open, and I saw a pedler there with open box. John, the
husband, was standing with a little purple cap on his hand, which he was
regarding with mystified, admiring air, as if he didn't quite comprehend
it, and trim little Mary gazing at it with longing eyes.

"'I think we might get it,' said John.

"'O, no,' said she, regretfully; 'yet I wish we could, it's _so
pretty_!'"

"Say no more, aunt. I see the good fairy must pop a cap into the window
on Christmas morning. Indeed, it shall be done. How they will wonder
where it came from, and talk about it for months to come!"

"Well, then," continued her aunt, "in the next street to ours there is a
miserable building, that looks as if it were just going to topple over;
and away up in the third story, in a little room just under the eaves,
live two poor, lonely old women. They are both nearly on to ninety. I
was in there day before yesterday. One of them is constantly confined to
her bed with rheumatism; the other, weak and feeble, with failing sight
and trembling hands, totters about, her only helper; and they are
entirely dependent on charity."

"Can't they do any thing? Can't they knit?" said Eleanor.

"You are young and strong, Eleanor, and have quick eyes and nimble
fingers; how long would it take you to knit a pair of stockings?"

"I?" said Eleanor. "What an idea! I never tried, but I think I could get
a pair done in a week, perhaps."

"And if somebody gave you twenty-five cents for them, and out of this
you had to get food, and pay room rent, and buy coal for your fire, and
oil for your lamp----"

"Stop, aunt, for pity's sake!"

"Well, I will stop; but they can't: they must pay so much every month
for that miserable shell they live in, or be turned into the street. The
meal and flour that some kind person sends goes off for them just as it
does for others, and they must get more or starve; and coal is now
scarce