known it, her heart was very heavy that morning. She did not blame his
father for his morning nap, not a bit of it; she was only glad that the
weary frame could rest a little after a night of pain. She had been up
since the first grey dawn of morning, bathing his head, straightening the
tangled bedclothes, walking the floor with the restless baby, in order
that her husband might have quiet. Oh no; there were worse women in the
world than Mrs. Lewis; but this morning her life looked very wretched to
her. She thought of her idle, mischievous boy; of her naughty,
high-tempered little girl; of her fat, healthy baby, who took so much of
her time; of her husband, who, though she never said it to him, or even
to herself, yet she knew and felt was every day growing weaker; and with
these came the remembrance that her own tired hands were all that lay
between them and want; and it is hardly a wonder that her voice was sharp
and her words ill chosen. For this mother tried to bear all her trials
alone; she never went for help to the Redeemer, who said,--

"Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden."

"Wah!" said Johnny, from his cradle in the bit of a bedroom near the
kitchen,--which kitchen was all the room they had, save two tiny bedrooms
and Tip's little den up-stairs.

Mrs. Lewis glanced quickly towards the door of her husband's room; it was
closed. Then she called,--

"Kitty, make that baby go to sleep!"

"Oh yes!" muttered Kitty, who sat on the floor lacing her old shoe with a
white cord; "it's easy to say that, but I'd just like to see you do it."