or saved. And I can put Maggie in the way of earning money by work if she wishes for it."
"How, mamma?" asked Maggie, eagerly.
"I have several dozens of towels to be hemmed, and I intended that Jane should do them all; but I will keep out one dozen for you, and will pay you five cents apiece. And they must be done, not at your regular sewing lesson, but at other times."
Now if there was one thing more than another which Maggie disliked, it was sewing. She always called the half-hour during which her mother taught her to sew "the worst time of the day." It was strange, too, for she had quick and skilful fingers, and sewed remarkably well for a little girl of seven, and people generally like to do that which they do well. But it was not so with Maggie, and her face grew very sober when her mother said she might hem her towels.
"But, mamma," she said.
"Well, dear?"
"Mamma, you know I cannot bear to sew. I do so hate it! And a dozen towels, – that means twelve, don't it? – why, I should never, never have them done."
"It shall be just as you choose, dear. I do not say you must do them, only that you may. But, Maggie, we can seldom do much good to others without taking some trouble or using some self-denial ourselves."
"I do not know what self-denial is, mamma."
"Self-denial is to give up something we would like to have, or perhaps to do something that is disagreeable or troublesome to ourselves, for the sake of another. This morning I gave you two plums, – one for yourself, one for Bessie. One was much larger than the other, and I saw that you gave it to Bessie, keeping the smaller one for yourself. That was self-denial."
"But, mamma," said Maggie, "that was not anything much. I could not do such a greedy thing as to give my own Bessie the little plum and eat the big one myself. I would be too ashamed."
"I am glad to say that neither of my little girls is greedy or selfish," said mamma. "Do you remember the day at Quam Beach when your head was hurt, and Tom Norris came up to read a new book to you?"
"Oh, yes'm, it was so kind of him; and he read 'most all the afternoon."
"When he was on his way to our house, Mr. Howard met him and asked him to go with him to see the wreck, but although Tom had been wishing very much to go, he refused because he thought you would like him to come and read to you. That was self-denial. Mr. Long and Miss Winslow do not like to leave all their friends and their comfortable homes to go out West, but they are willing to do it, that they may teach those poor people who have no one to tell them of Jesus. That is self-denial. And if my Maggie were to take her time to hem towels for the sake of the little Western children who have no books, that would be self-denial. And there was one great self-denial, greater than any other the world can ever see. Do you know what that was, my darling?"
"When Abraham killed – I mean when he was going to kill Isaac," said Maggie.
"Well, there was some self-denial in that," said Mrs. Bradford, "but that was not what I meant. It was Abraham's great faith in God which made him willing to obey his word and sacrifice his only son; but there was a greater than he, Maggie, who offered a more wonderful sacrifice."
"Mamma," said Bessie, "do you mean when Jesus left his heaven and came to die for us?"
"Yes, dear; and when we find it hard to give up our own wishes for the sake of others, let us remember all the dear Saviour has done for us, and that will make the task easier and pleasanter. And the Bible says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.' That means that when we are working for Jesus' people, or for his little lambs, we are working for him."
"And two little lambs can help some other little lambs," said Bessie, as if this thought pleased her very much.
"Mamma," said Maggie, drawing a long sigh, "I think I'll have a self-denial and hem those towels. How much money will twelve towels make?"
"Twelve towels at five cents apiece will make sixty cents," said Mrs. Bradford; "and perhaps by and by you will find some other way to gain money."
"May I earn money any way I can, mamma?" asked Maggie.
"I cannot promise that," said mamma, smiling. "You might wish to earn money in some way I might not think proper, even for a good purpose."
"And what can I do, mamma?" asked Bessie. "I want to work too, and I don't know how to sew."
"What shall we find for those little hands to do, Maggie?" said mamma, catching the two tiny hands Bessie held up and patting them softly against her own cheeks.
"Work for those little hands to do?" said papa, who just then came in and heard the last words. "I should think they were at their proper work now, – petting mamma. Papa would not mind coming in for a share too."
"And so he shall," said Bessie; "but petting you and mamma is nice play, not work; and these little hands want to be useful, papa."
"I think they do pretty well for five-year-old hands," said Mr. Bradford, as he sat down and took Bessie on his knee. "They bring papa's slippers and rock baby's cradle, and sometimes I see them trying to help mamma when she is busy. I think we may call them rather useful for hands of their size."
"But they want to make money, papa."
"Ho, ho! that is it; is it? Well, I do not know that they can do much at that business, or that they could hold any great sum if they made it. Let us see what they can do in that way;" and putting his hand into his pocket, Mr. Bradford pulled out a number of bright new pennies. "Put out both hands."
Bessie put her hands together and held them out, while her father counted the pennies into them.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. There, I think that is as much as they can hold at once," said Mr. Bradford. "Is there another pair of little hands that would like to try if they can do as well?"
Maggie was standing at her father's knee with a very eager face, for she knew her turn would come next.
"One, two, three," began Mr. Bradford, and counted out fifteen pennies into Maggie's hands. "And now what is to be done with all that money?" he asked, looking from one to another of the bright faces. "It is not to be wasted, I suppose, since mamma seems to be in the secret."
"We want to buy a library," said Bessie.
"A library?" said Mr. Bradford. "Well, I'll promise to read every book in any library you may buy for the next ten years."
"But it is not a big library with stupid books in, like yours, papa," said Maggie; "but a nice little one with pretty Sunday-school books; and it is not for ourselves we want it."
Then papa was told about Mr. Long and Miss Winslow, all of which he knew before, though he listened as though it was quite new to him, and of the plan for the library, which he thought a very good one, and of which he had as yet heard nothing.
"Mamma," said Maggie, "will you take care of our money for us? I know I shall lose some of mine if I keep it myself."
Mrs. Bradford opened a drawer, and took from it a curious little box. It was made of blocks of red and black wood, and had no cover; but if a certain block were pressed, out flew a drawer which moved on a spring. This box had been Mrs. Bradford's when she was a child, and Maggie and Bessie thought it a great curiosity.
"There,"
