sness, for it was an honour as well as a delight to have a
story from her--it happened so seldom.

"This is a story," began Mrs Chelwood when they were all settled,
"which I have only just heard myself, and it is a true one. It has
something to do with one of Jackie's presents to-day."

"I wonder which?" said Jackie, rubbing his knees.

"You shall hear," said his mother. "Now, listen.

"Once there was a poor mother who lived far away from here in the north
of England, and worked in a factory. She had only one child, which she
loved so fondly that it was more than all the world to her, and though
she had to work very hard all day, it seemed quite light and easy for
the child's sake."

"Why didn't the father work?" asked Agatha.

"The father was dead."

"Was it a boy or a girl?" asked Patrick.

"And what was its name?" added Jennie.

"It was a little girl," said Mrs Chelwood, "and she was called Betty."

"But Betty isn't a name," objected Agatha, "it's short for something."

"In the north it is used as a name by itself," replied Mrs Chelwood;
"many of the children there are christened Betty, and so was this little
girl, though she was very seldom called so."

"Why?" asked Mary.

"Because the people in the village had given her a nickname. They
called her `Little Clogs.'"

"What a frightful name to give her!" said Agatha. "What did they do it
for?"

"Because she was so proud of a tiny pair of shoes which someone had made
for her. They were exactly like that one Mary gave Jackie, and they are
properly called `clogs.'"

"They're not a bit like the clogs Mrs Moser, the charwoman, wears,"
said Agatha.

"If you interrupt me so often I shall never finish my story," said her
mother. "Well, this poor mother couldn't take her child with her into
the factory, so she used to leave her with a friend close by, and fetch
her after her work. But one evening when she went as usual there was no
baby to be found--she was gone!"

"Where?" said Mary.

"No one knew. She had been stolen away, or lost, and on the door-step,
where she had been playing, there was one little clog left."

"Who had stolen her?" asked Mary anxiously.

"They heard later that a fair-skinned child had been seen with gypsies
on the road to London, but that was not till long afterwards. For years
the mother heard no news of her, and wandered up and down the country
with the one little clog in her hand seeking her: she felt sure she
sho