294 The Worsted S^oeJcing. [June, 



The day had passed as industriously and swiftly as usual, with Tom's 

 mother at home. She was always busily employed for her husband and 

 children, in some way or other ; and to-day she had been harder at work 

 than usual, getting ready for the holiday to-morrow. She had just fin- 

 ished all her preparations, and her thoughts were silently thanking God 

 for her happy home, and for all the blessings of life, when Tom ran in. 

 His face was as white as ashes ; and he could hardly get his words out — 

 " Mother ! mother! he cannot get down ! " 



" Who, lad, thy father?" asked his mother. 



*' They've forgotten to leave him the rope," answered Tom, still 

 scarcely able to speak. His mother started up horror-struck, and stood 

 for a moment paralyzed ; then, pressing her hands over her face, as if to 

 shut out the terrible picture, and breathing a prayer to God for help, 

 she rushed out of the house. 



When she reached the place where her husband was at work, a crowd 

 had collected round the foot of the chimney, and stood there quite help- 

 less, gazing up with faces full of sorrow. 



" He says he'll throw himself down," exclaimed they, as Mrs Howard 

 came up; "he is going to throw himself down." 



" Thee munna do that, lad." cried the wife, with clear, hopeful voice ; 

 " thee munna do that. Wait a bit. Take oflF thy stocking, lad, and 

 unravel it, and let down the thread with a bit of mortar. Dost hear 

 me, Jem ? " 



The man had made a sign of assent, for it seemed as if he could not 

 speak ; and, taking off his stocking, unraveled the worsted thread, row 

 after row. The people stood round in breathless silence .and suspense, 

 wondering what Tom's mother could be thinking of, and why she sent 

 him in such haste for the carpenter's ball of twine. 



*« Let down one end of the thread with a bit of stone, and keep fast 

 hold of the other," cried she to her husband. The little thread came 

 waving down the tall chimney, blown hither and thither by the wind ; 

 but at last it reached the outstretched hands that were waiting for it. 

 Tom held the ball of string, while his mother tied one end of it to the 

 worsted thread. " Now pull it up slowly," cried she to her husband ; 

 and she gradually unwound the string, as the worsted drew it gently up. 

 It stopped — the string had reached her husband. " Now hold the string 

 fast, and pull it up," cried she ; and the string grew heavy and hard to 

 pull, for Tom and his mother had fastened the thick rope to it. They 

 watched it gradually and slowly uncoiling from the ground as the string 

 was drawn hi^-her. There was but one coil left. It had reached the 



