"Very well," said Matthew, leaning back in his chair, "only take care what you are about, or I shall have no end of trouble with them in the morning."
And resting thus, he watched her as she gathered them together, and laid them carefully aside, together with her own neatly-folded work.
"You, too, have been busy to-day," continued he, touching the delicate fabric as he spoke.
"Yes, indeed. But then mine is not hard work like yours. I can sit and think of a hundred things all the time I am sewing—not that thinking makes me any happier. It was only to-day that I was wondering to myself whether the children will have to work as hard when they grow up as you and I are obliged to do."
"Before they grow up, perhaps!"
"Oh, Matthew!" exclaimed his wife.
"Well, let us hope not. At any rate, it is of no use meeting trouble half-way. It won't be while I am alive. I do not mind how hard I work, if we can only keep the wolf from the door."
Just then a large cinder fell out of the dying fire; and the children, huddled together in their dark corner, woke up in time to catch the last words which their father had uttered.
"Polly," whispered little Bessie, "did you hear what father said about the wolf?"
"Yes," answered Polly, all of a tremble.