"It was to a poor woman," said Kathie; "she asked me for it for her little girl, and so I took it off and gave it to her, but afterwards—"
"Afterwards you remembered that you should have asked Mother first," said Mother gravely.
"Yes," said Kathie. "But, Mother, the woman was poor; we ought to give to the poor, ought we not?"
"Yes, Kathie, but we must only give that which is our very own. Now, the hat was not yours to give away; I bought it for you, to shade you from the hot sun."
"Oh, Mother!" interrupted Kathie, "then I can never give to the poor, for little children have nothing of their own." Kathie's lip trembled, and she was very near crying at this thought.
"I will tell you what is your own to give," said Mother consolingly, "that is your time. All children have a great deal of time to do as they like in, and I can show you how you can use that time for the poor."
"Oh, mother! how? I can't sew nearly well enough to make anything for them."
"No, I don't mean sewing. I will give you an old pillow-case, and you must fill it with very little bits of torn, not cut, paper, and when it is full I will cover it for you with a case of pretty print, and then it will make a soft pillow for old Mrs. Timms, or any one else you like to give it to. It will take both time and patience to tear the paper; and when it is finished it will be your own work, and you may give it away."
"Yes, I see," said Kathie. "That will be my own work. I shall like that."
"As you grow older you will have money and other things which you can give away, but even then you will find that your best gifts will be those you have spent time and love over; those two things are the possession of the poorest of us, and yet they are worth more than gold and silver. Now, Kathie, we must go and buy you a new hat, for you cannot walk home in this heat without one; and another time when you give away anything you must remember to be just before you are generous."