While Mary had thus been busy preparing for a happy evening, Bessy had been spending part of the afternoon at a Mrs. Foster’s, a neighbour of her mother’s, and a very tidy, industrious old widow. Mrs. Foster earned part of her livelihood by working for the shops where knitted work of all kinds is to be sold; and Bessy’s attention was caught, almost as soon as she went in, by a very gay piece of wool-knitting, in a new stitch, that was to be used as a warm covering for the feet. After admiring its pretty looks, Bessy thought how useful it might be to her mother; and when Mrs. Foster heard this, she offered to teach Bessy how to do it. But where were the wools to come from? Those which Mrs. Foster used were provided her by the shop; and she was a very poor woman—too poor to make presents, though rich enough (as we all are) to give help of many other kinds, and willing too to do what she could (which some of us are not). The two sat perplexed. “How much did you say it would cost?” said Bessy at last; as if the article was likely to have become cheaper, since she asked the question before. “Well! it’s sure to be more than two shillings if it’s German wool. You might get it for eighteenpence if you could be content with English.” “But I’ve not got eighteenpence,” said Bessy, gloomily. “I could lend it you,” said Mrs. Foster, “if I was sure of having it back before Monday. But it’s part of my rent-money. Could you make sure, do you think?” “Oh, yes!” said Bessy, eagerly. “At least I’d try. But perhaps I had better not take it, for after all I don’t know where I could get it. What Tom and Jem earn is little enough for the house, now that mother’s washing is cut off.” “They are good, dutiful lads, to give it to their mother,” said Mrs. Foster, sighing: for she thought of her own boys, that had left her in her old age to toil on, with faded eyesight and weakened strength. “Oh! but mother makes them each keep a shilling out of it for themselves,” said Bessy, in a complaining tone, for she wanted money, and was inclined to envy any one who possessed it. “That’s right enough,” said Mrs. Foster. “They that earn it should have some of the power over it.” “But about this wool; this eighteenpence! I wish I was a boy and could earn money. I wish mother would have let me go to work in the factory.” “Come now, Bessy, I can have none of that nonsense. Thy mother knows what’s best for thee; and I’m not going to hear thee complain of what she has thought right. But may be, I can help you to a way of gaining eighteenpence. Mrs. Scott at the worsted shop told me that she should want some one to clean on Saturday; now you’re a good strong girl, and can do a woman’s work if you’ve a mind. Shall I say you will go? and then I don’t mind if I lend you my eighteenpence. You’ll pay me before I want my rent on Monday.”