Well, I was not sorry that I gave her that breakfast, or those clothes, or that money; I was sorry to see a little child so deceitful; but, do you know it is better sometimes to be mistaken than never to trust?—better sometimes even to lose a little, than with icy words to crush from out a despairing heart, the last hope of a tempted, starving, fellow creature!
That's the way I comforted myself, dear children, as I walked along home.
Rain, rain, rain! How the drops come down! I wonder if anybody beside myself will get out doors to-day?
Ah, yes! There's a little boy, not much bigger than Tom Thumb. He's a little merchant, as true as the world, and has a box strapped on his back. Now he wants to sell me something.
"Corset lacings?" Never use such things, my dear.
"Paste blacking?" Wear patent leather.
"Ear-rings?" I leave those to the Indians.
"Combs? hooks and eyes? pins? needles? tape? scissors? spools?"