she could find any, and then, there was Christmas
Day.

But one year her mother was ill and could not
earn any money. Piccola worked hard all the day
long, and sold the stockings which she knit, even
when her own little bare feet were blue with the
cold.

As Christmas Day drew near she said to her
mother, ``I wonder what the good Saint Nicholas
will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking
in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden
shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget
me, I am sure.''

``Do not think of it this year, my dear child,''
replied her mother. ``We must be glad if we have
bread enough to eat.''

But Piccola could not believe that the good
saint would forget her. On Christmas Eve she
put her little wooden patten on the hearth before
the fire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint
Nicholas.

As the poor mother looked at the little shoe,
she thought how unhappy her dear child would be
to find it empty in the morning, and wished that
she had something, even if it were only a tiny