ssers. These wooden
elevators for the feet were much in demand at the time when London
streets were often deep in mud, and the fields splashy or sticky with
clay. But they did not sell bucklers in Bucklersbury; so far as we know,
it was called after a citizen named Buckle, to whom the manor belonged.
Grub Street did not have at all a pretty name, though some say it was
first Grape Street; then it was altered to Milton Street in honour of
our great poet. Little Britain or Britagne Street had a residence
belonging to the Dukes of Brittany, and Barbican was notable for its
Roman tower, around which were large gardens.

EARNING AN HONEST PENNY.

'I wish we could scrape enough money together to buy poor old Father a
pair of slippers for his birthday,' said Jack; 'his old ones are all in
holes, and I know he can't afford a new pair--he has had so many
expenses since Mother's illness.'

Geoffrey looked up from his home-lessons and sighed deeply. '_My_
money-box is quite empty,' he remarked, 'and Nellie and Hilda have not a
farthing in the world.'

'That is true enough,' laughed Nellie. 'But, oh, Jack,' turning to her
eldest brother, 'if only we could do _something_ for Father, I should be
so glad! He seems so worried lately, and I am sure it's because he can't
get Mother all the nice things she ought to have now that she is getting
better.'

'Couldn't I take out a broom and sweep a crossing?' asked Geoffrey;
'that would bring in a little, and I would not mind what I did, if it
helped.'

'You must find your crossing first,' returned Jack. 'The roads are as
dry as a bone at present, so _that_ won't work, little stupid!'

'Little stupid' sighed again. 'If only I knew how to earn an honest
penny!' he murmured.

'Or twopence,' said Hilda. 'I think twopence would be a little better.'

'I would rather it was half-a-crown,' put in Nellie.

There was silence for a moment; then Jack said slowly: 'I wonder what
became of Uncle Harry after he went out to Australia. Father never
writes to him; he doesn't know where he is now, and we have moved so
many times that I expect Uncle does not know where _we_ are either. I
dare say if he knew we were so badly off he would help us.'

'It's no good talking about Uncle Harry,' said Geoff; 'the question is,
Can _we_ help Father?'

'Look here,' cried Jack, suddenly; 'supposing, instead of saying "_Can_
we," we say "We _must_." Supposing,' he added, 'we all make up our minds
to e