ht
against. He spoke also of the improvement he had made during the
year.

At the same time the mother gave words of kind advice to her little
daughters. She told them to keep up good courage; to be busy and
patient in the year to come.

"My dear little girls," she whispered, as she kissed them, "I love to
see you happy in your play. But the good Lord who cares for us has
given us all some work to do in this world. Be faithful in doing
yours."

CHAPTER II.

TOY-MAKING

"Wake up, Bertha. Come, Gretchen. You will have to hurry, for it is
quite late," called their mother. It was one morning about a week
after Christmas.

"Oh dear, I am so sleepy, and my bed is nice and warm," thought
Bertha.

[Illustration: Bertha's Father and Mother.]

But she jumped up and rubbed her eyes and began to dress, without
waiting to be called a second time. Her mother was kind and loving,
but she had taught her children to obey without a question.

Both little girls had long, thick hair. It must be combed and
brushed and braided with great care. Each one helped the other.
They were soon dressed, and ran down-stairs.

As soon as the breakfast was over and the room made tidy, every one
in the family sat down to work. Bertha's father was a toy-maker. He
had made wooden images of Santa Claus all his life. His wife and
children helped him.

When Bertha was only five years old, she began to carve the legs of
these Santa Claus dolls. It was a queer sight to see the little
girl's chubby fingers at their work. Now that she was nine years
old, she still carved legs for Santa Claus in her spare moments.

Gretchen always made arms, while Hans worked on a still different
part of the bodies. The father and mother carved the heads and
finished the little images that afterward gave such delight to
children in other lands.

Bertha lives in the Black Forest. That name makes you think at once
of a dark and gloomy place. The woods on the hills are dark, to be
sure, but the valleys nestling between are bright and cheerful when
the sun shines down and pours its light upon them. Bertha's village
is in just such a valley. The church stands on the slope above the
little homes. It seems to say, "Look upward, my children, to the
blue heavens, and do not fear, even when the mists fill the valley
and the storm is raging over your heads."

All the people in the village seem happy and contented. They work
hard, and their pa