“An idea in a work-basket! How very remarkable! Now I shall know where to go when I am obliged to write a composition and can’t think of anything to say!” said Maude Hasket.
“What I mean is this,” said Nell earnestly; “I found that work-basket full—yes, full to overflowing—with things to mend, make and fix! There were Billy’s mittens to mend; the baby’s petticoats to be shortened; buttons to be sewed on Kitty’s apron; a patch in Tom’s jacket, and all for my dear little mother’s one pair of tired hands! And all to be done this afternoon or evening! I tell you, girls, I felt ashamed when I looked at my own nonsensical piece of fancywork! And then and there I made up my mind to do something towards lessening the contents of that basket. So I grabbed up this sock, for I remembered hearing mother say only a few days ago that father needed a new pair. I’m not much of a hand at knitting, but I’ll do all I can this afternoon, working on the leg, and when I get home to-night, mother’ll show me about fixing the heel.”
There was a short silence.
Presently Maude said, “Well, girls, I dare say the most of us have mothers whose work-baskets are in the condition of the one Nell has described! I’ve no doubt that I can find one in my own home! There are six of us children—four younger than myself. It would take one woman’s time to keep our little Ben in anything like decent order! He is a veritable Peggotty for button-bursting! And sister Flo is almost as bad! She’s a perfect Tomboy! Tears regular barn-door holes in her apron!”
“Well, it’s pretty much the same at our house,” observed Maggie Gray. “Of course there are not so many of us, but still mother’s sewing, mending and darning about all the time.”
“And mine too!” said Laura Harris. “It was only last evening that I heard father ask mother if she wouldn’t go to the lecture with him, and she said she would like to very much, but couldn’t go, because she had to patch Jack’s trousers so that he could wear them to school the next day. And I sat there like an unfeeling wretch, working on a silly, good-for-nothing lamp-mat! And mother did look so tired and wistful, poor darling! Father seemed disappointed too. Now I might have offered to do the patching, and so given her a chance to go. It would have done her so much good!”
“Well,” said Maude briskly, “I guess we’re all in the same fix! We have been going on and doing our own sweet wills, and I for one propose that we make a change! Suppose we all agree to go to our respective mother’s mending-basket and get work from it for our next Fancy Friday?”
“All right! We will!” chimed the others.
Further conversation on the subject was put an end to by the entrance of Madam, Iliad in hand, and for the next hour, the girls were regaled by the account of Achilles dragging the body of Hector nine times around the walls of Troy.
“Four!” chimed the great clock in the hall.