d of all thoughts the best is that of having done
some good and unselfish action in the day.

Dot proved uncommonly useful next morning. Tiny creature though she
was, she was quite learned in domestic affairs. She lit the fire and
tidied up the room before Tom was even awake. Indeed, when he did
wake, it was to see her perched on his chair peeping into the cupboard
to find the breakfast service. Tom's breakfast service was not
extensive. It consisted of a huge cup and saucer a good deal chipped,
two plates and a jam pot, this last article doing duty as a sugar-basin.

Dot was evidently well used to make-shifts, for she even invented a new
one. Upon the mantelshelf was a curious old vase with a griffin's head
surrounding it. It was shaped like a jug, so Dot took it down and
washed it, saying to herself, "This will make a fine milk-jug."

"A fine milk-jug?" yawned the miller from his flour-bag couch. "Ah, to
be sure! children want milk to drink." And with this he threw on his
clothes, and hastily washed himself in a water-butt which stood near
the mill steps. Then he called to Dot. "Come, little one, bring your
milk-jug; we will go to the farm for milk for your breakfast."

"But we want to _fetch_ the milk in a _can_," objected Dot.

Tom scratched his head in a bewildered way for a moment, then a happy
thought struck him. "My beer-can will do, won't it?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Dot seriously, "only first it must be scrubbed."

So Tom scrubbed the can obediently, and when it shone sufficiently the
two started off to a neighbouring farm to buy the milk.

On the way from the farm a strange thing happened. Tom and Dot were
trudging merrily along a little lane, when they perceived a woman
crouching under a hedge, holding in her arms a bundle wrapped in a
shawl. The woman might have escaped notice, perhaps, had not a cry
proceeded from the bundle. Tom had of late heard so many cries in his
heart, that his ear readily lent itself to one from outside. He came
up to the woman, therefore, at once and said, "You have a little one
wrapped in that, haven't you? Is it hungry? If it is, here is some
milk."

At first the woman did not raise her head. It was hidden in the shawl
which covered the infant, so the miller repeated his question. Then
the woman looked up, and the eyes which met Tom's were those of Anne
Grey. She knew Tom at once, but it was with no smile of pleasure that
she greeted him. Her wor