"But do you knit for other folks?"
"Yes, fur some. Them I jest finished is fur one of the Chisties' down the
lane. Any size from one to ten fits there."
"Are they able to pay you?" I ventured to inquire.
"I don't ginerally knit for folks as can pay. It's a pity for little feet
to go bare because the mother was thriftless or overworked."
I watched the busy fingers a little sadly, comparing them with my own
daintily gloved hands, that had never done anything more useful than to
hold a text book, or sketch, or practice on the ivory keys, while those
other hands often tired, calloused with hard usage, had been working
unselfishly through the years for others.
"I wish you would teach me to knit," I said one day, seized with a sudden
inspiration.
"'Twould be a waste of your time. Folks like you don't wear home-knit
stockings."
"Oh, yes they do. Pretty silken hose is quite the fashion; but I hire
mine knitted."
"Then what makes you want to learn?"
"Do you not think it is my duty to work for the poor, and helpless as
well as yours?"
"I won't allow but what it is; but laws! rich folk can't pity the poor,
no more'n a person that's never been sick, or had the tooth-ache, can
pity one who has."
"The stockings would be just as warm, though, as if I knew all about
their sorrows."
"I reckon they'd feel better on some feet if they know'd your white hands
knit 'em."
"If there would be any added pleasure to the warmth of the socks then you
will surely teach me.
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