It is no
foolish fancy. It's not for my sake, but for the children's."
Her eyes were aglow with earnestness, and her voice trembled.
"Do you think they'd care for it?" asked her grandfather, impressed
by something in her which he had never seen before.
"Care for it!--Imagine a poor little thing that has been born in a
wretched, poverty-stricken, disorderly home, a home that is no home,
and growing up with no knowledge of anything but those four hateful
walls and the street outside. No toys, no treats, no change of air;
playing in the gutter, never seeing a beautiful thing, never hearing
of the pleasures which rich people's children would pine and die
without And a child for all that."
Mr. Woodstock cleared his throat and smoothed the newspaper upon his
knee.
"How will you get them here, Ida?"
"Oh, leave that to me! Let us choose a day; wouldn't Saturday be
best! I will go there myself, and pick out the children, and get
their mothers to promise to have them ready. Then I'll arrange to
have one of those carts you see at Sunday-school treats. Why, the
ride here, that alone! And you'll let me have tea for them,--just
bread and butter and a bun,--it will cost not half as much as my
new dress this week, not _half_ as much--"
"Come, come, I can't stand this!" growled out Abraham, getting up
from the seat.
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