THE MONEY SHOP.
Jack Russell was five years old and ten days over; therefore, it is plain that he was now a big boy. He had left off kilts, and his trousers had as many buttons as it is possible for trousers to have, and his boots had a noble squeak in them. What would you have more?
This being the case, of course Jack could go down town with his Mamma when she went shopping, a thing that little boys cannot do, as a rule.
One day in Christmas week, when all the shops were full of pretty things, Jack and his Mamma found themselves in the gay street, with crowds of people hurrying to and fro, all carrying parcels of every imaginable shape.
The air was crisp and tingling, the sleigh-bells made a merry din, and everybody looked cheerful and smiling, as if they knew that Christmas was only five days off.
Almost everybody, for as Jack stopped to look in at a shop window, he saw some one who did not look cheerful. It was a poor woman, thinly and miserably clad, and holding a little boy by the hand.
The boy was little, because he wore petticoats (oh, such poor, ragged petticoats)! but he was taller than Jack. He was looking longingly at the toys in the window.
“Oh, mother!” he cried, “see that little horse! Oh, I wish I had a little horse!”
“My dear,” said the poor woman, sighing, “if I can give you an apple to eat with your bread on Christmas Day, you must be thankful, for I can do no more. Poor people can’t have pretty things like those.”
“Come, Jack!” said Mrs. Russell, drawing him on hastily. “What are you stopping for, child?”