“‘A happy day!’ said her mother, looking up in amazement at the life of her voice and face that were wont to be so dull and listless. ‘Well child—I’m glad on’t,—you never had many.’
“‘Such a happy day!’ repeated Clary. ‘O mother—I read such beautiful words at the printing-office!’
“‘Did you fetch the soap I wanted?’ inquired her mother.
“No—Clary had forgotten it.
“‘Well don’t be so happy to-morrow that you’ll forget it,’ said her mother. ‘Every living child here’s as dirty as a pig, and no way of making ’em cleaner. Tidy up the room a little, can’t you, Clary?—I’ve stood up on my two feet all day.’
“So had Clary, and some nights she would have said as much; but now that new half hope of being happy—that new desire of doing all that anybody could want her to do (she didn’t know why), gave her two feet new strength; and she not only ‘tidied up’ the room, but even found a little end of soap to tidy up the children withal; and then gave them their supper and put them to bed with far less noise and confusion than usual.
“Her mother was already seated by the one tallow candle, making coarse shirts and overalls for a wholesale dealer; and Clary having at last found her thimble in the pocket of the smallest pair of trousers, sat down to work too. Never had her fingers moved so fast.
“‘Mother,’ she said, after a while, ‘did you ever hear anybody talk about the Saviour?’
“Her mother stared.
“‘What on earth, child!’ she said. ‘Where have you been, and who’s been putting notions in your head?’