tomed to say.

But one evening the sun happened to shine on the row of brass-tipped
clogs, and made them glisten brightly just as Maggie went by. It caught
the baby's attention, and she held out her arms to them and gave a
little coo of pleasure.

"T'little lass is wantin' clogs, I reckon," said Tommie with a grim
smile.

Maggie held out the baby's tiny foot with a laugh of pride.

"Here's a foot for a pair of clogs, Master Monk," she said; "t'wouldn't
waste much leather to fashion 'em."

Tommie said nothing more, but a week afterwards he beckoned to Maggie
with an important air as she went by.

"You come here," he said briefly.

Maggie went into the stall, and he reached down from a nail a pair of
tiny, neatly finished clogs. They had jaunty brass-bound toes, and a
row of brass nails all round where the leather joined the wooden sole,
and on the instep there gleamed a pair of smart brass clasps with a
pattern chased on them.

"Fur her," said Tommie as he gave them to Maggie. As he did so the baby
stretched out her hands to the bright clasps.

"See!" exclaimed the delighted Maggie; "she likes 'em ever so. Oh,
Master Monk, how good of yo'!"

"Them clasps _is_ oncommon," said Tommie, regarding his work
thoughtfully, his blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction, "I cam' at 'em
by chance like."

Maggie had now taken off her baby's shoe, and fitted the clog on to the
soft little foot.

"Ain't they bonnie?" she said.

The baby leaned forward and, seizing one toe in each hand, rocked
herself gently to and fro.

Tommie looked on approvingly.

"Yo'll find 'em wear well," he said; "they're the best o' leather and
the best o' workmanship."

After six months more were gone the baby began to walk, and you might
hear a sharp little clatter on the pavement, like the sound of some
small iron-shod animal. Tommie heard it one morning just as it was
Maggie's usual time to pass, and looked out of his stall. There was
Maggie coming down the road with a proud smile on her face, and the baby
was there too. But not in her mother's arms. No, she was erect on her
own small feet, tottering along in the new wooden clogs.

"My word!" exclaimed Tommie, his nose wrinkling with gratification;
"we'll have to call her Little Clogs noo."

It was in this way that Maggie's child became known in the village as
"Little Clogs." Not that it was any distinction to wear clogs in
Haworth, everyone had them; but the baby's feet were