One poor woman said to her, "You made me promise not to work, ma'am, and, at first, it seemed so strange to be able to do as I liked, that I felt quite lost.
"Then, I thought, I might do a bit—not enough to tire me—for we want so many things, and half a day's wage would be something extra. But I was vexed at myself for even thinking of breaking my promise when you had been so kind as to set my hands free and make things comfortable for the day. So I set to work to enjoy myself. I cooked the dinner, such a good one! And I had a real play with the children, poor things! They could hardly believe their ears when they saw my face and heard me laughing, and we all sat down instead of snatching a bite anyhow.
"After dinner, the sun was shining, and we went for a short walk, and looked in at shop windows, and after that I nodded in the old chair whilst they played with some more children in the court.
"I went to bed same time as they did, knowing I must begin again in the morning, but one day's rest did me more good than medicine, and I felt twice the woman after it that I did before it, thanks to God and you, ma'am."
If anybody wants to make a poor toiler happy, let her look round for some worthy, weary body, and give it a day's rest, by bestowing a conditional day's wages and the little more which shall spread the board and brighten the hearth. Such an expenditure pays good and immediate interest, and the night's rest of the giver will be all the sweeter for the memory of the drop of sweetness which she has been able to infuse into the cup of one less favoured than herself.
The Master will not forget the work of love, and those are precious words which tell us, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me."
UNCLE Maurice and his little niece, Minnie, had gone through the whole book together; looked at the pictures, talked over the stories; and now there was nothing else to be done but to shut it up and put it aside. There had been many a laugh during the hour spent upon it, and, though it was a mere baby book, I doubt if the child had enjoyed the time more than her tall uncle had done.
Minnie gave a little sigh as she put down the volume, and looked around, as if asking what was to come next. She was a blue-eyed, curly-haired, five-year-old lassie; her uncle's special pet and darling, and I am afraid that, knowing how dearly he loved her, she was a little bit of a tyrant, and ordered him about as if he were the child, and she a grown-up aunty.