mustn't lift her," says Mary. "It will make your head
ache." And the elder of the children lifts her baby-sister in her
arms, and carefully lays her in the crib.

"Did you say all your lessons correctly this morning?" now asks the
mother.

"I didn't miss a word," answers Mary.

"Nor I," says Anna.

"I'm glad of it. It always does me good to know that you have said
your lessons well. Now go and take a run in the yard for exercise."

The little girls leave the chamber, and soon their happy voices came
ringing up from the yard. The sound is loud, the children in their
merry mood unconscious of the noise they make.

"This is too loud. It will make your head ache," we say, making a
motion to rise, as if going to check the exuberance of their
spirits.

"Oh no," is answered with a smile. "The happy voices of my children
never disturb me. Were it the sound of wrangling, my weak head would
throb instantly with pain. But this comes to me like music. They
have been confined for hours in school, and health needs a reaction.
Every buoyant laugh or glad exclamation expands their lungs,
quickens the blood in their veins, and gives a measure of health to
mind as well as body. The knowledge of this brings to me a sense of
pleasure; and it is better for me, therefore, that they should be
gay and noisy for a time, after coming out of school, than it would
be if they sat down quietly in the house, or moved about stealthily,
speaking to each other in low tones lest I should be disturbed."

We could not say nay to this. It was true, because unselfish,
philosophy.

"Doesn't that hammering annoy you?" we ask.

"What hammering?"

"In the new building over the way."

She listens a moment, and then answers--

"Oh no. I did not remark it until you spoke. Such things never
disturb me, for the reason that my mind is usually too much occupied
to think of them. Though an invalid, and so weak that my hands are
almost useless, I never let my thoughts lie idle. A mother, with
three children, has enough to occupy her mind usefully--and useful
thoughts, you know, are antidotes to brooding melancholy, and not
unfrequently to bodily pain. If I were to give way to
weaknesses--and I am not without temptations--I would soon be an
unhappy, nervous, helpless creature, a burden to myself and all
around me."

"You need sympathy and strength from others," we remark.

"And I receive it in full measure," is instantly replied. "Not
because I dema