"Well! She got my pictures first, and made pencil marks on 'em."
"Helen!" said the mother. "Pick up those cards and give them to Willy."
"I sha'n't! Do it yourself!"
"No more of that! Obey me instantly, or I'll punish you," threatened Mrs. Knapp. "And, Willy, you may go out and fill the wood-box."
"I ain't ageing to fill the old wood-box. You can wait until Arthur comes," was the dutiful reply.
Mabel could not avoid hearing this colloquy, and even the mother's deep sigh reached her ear.
"The children have been out of school so long," said Mrs. Knapp, on re-entering the room, "that they have grown quite unmanageable. I must send them soon."
"I remember," said Mabel, smiling, "that I always got into mischief when I had nothing to do. Mother was always contriving things for me to do."
"But I haven't time for that," returned the mother, quickly. "There are so many things that must be done; so much that must be contrived."
Mabel was not prepared to solve the problem that vexes the lives of so many mothers—how to meet all the demands made upon them; or, if this is not possible, how to decide what shall be crowded out—so she said nothing, but soon took leave, pitying the mother and pitying the children, and wondering if there was any way to help them.