So they began, and for an hour one pleasant voice after the other
read aloud those sad, true stories of workingwomen and their hard
lives, showing these gay young creatures what their pretty clothes
cost the real makers of them, and how much injustice, suffering, and
wasted strength went into them. It was very sober reading, but most
absorbing; for the crochet needles went slower and slower, the
lace-work lay idle, and a great tear shone like a drop of dew on the
apple blossoms as Ella listened to "Rose's Story." They skipped the
statistics, and dipped here and there as each took her turn; but
when the two hours were over, and it was time for the club to
adjourn, all the members were deeply interested in that pathetic
book, and more in earnest than before; for this glimpse into other
lives showed them how much help was needed, and made them anxious to
lend a hand,

"We can't do much, being 'only girls,'" said Anna; "but if each does
one small chore somewhere it will pave the way for better work; so
we will all try, at least, though it seems like so many ants trying
to move a mountain."

"Well, ants build nests higher than a man's head in Africa; you
remember the picture of them in our old geographies? And we can do
as much, I'm sure, if each tugs her pebble or straw faithfully. I
shall shoulder mine to-morrow if Mamma is willing," answered Lizzie,
shutting up her work-bag as if she had her resolution inside and was
afraid it might evaporate before she got home.

"I shall stand on the Common, and proclaim aloud, 'Here's a nice
young missionary, in want of a job! Charity for sale cheap! Who'll
buy? who'll buy?'" said Maggie, with a resigned expression, and a