For this mother tried to bear all her trials alone; she never went for help to the Redeemer, who said,-- "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden." "Wah!" said Johnny, from his cradle in the bit of a bedroom near the kitchen,--which kitchen was all the room they had, save two tiny bedrooms and Tip's little den up-stairs.
Mrs.Lewis glanced quickly towards the door of her husband's room; it was closed.

Then she called,-- "Kitty, make that baby go to sleep!" "Oh yes!" muttered Kitty, who sat on the floor lacing her old shoe with a white cord; "it's easy to say that, but I'd just like to see you do it." "Ah yah!" answered Johnny from the cradle, as though he tried to say, "So should I." Then, not being noticed, he gave up pretending to cry, and screamed in good earnest, loud, positive yells, which brought his mother in haste from the kitchen.
"Ugly girl!" she said to Kitty, as she lifted the conquering hero from his cradle; "you don't care how soon your father is waked out of the only nap he has had all night.

Why didn't you rock the cradle?
I've a notion to whip you this minute!" "I did," answered Kitty sulkily; "and he opened his eyes at me as wide as he could stretch them." Crash! went something at that moment in the kitchen; and, with Johnny in her arms, Mrs.Lewis ran back to see what new trouble she had to meet.
Tip, meantime, had been in business; being hungry, he had cut a slice of bread from the loaf, and, in the act of reaching over to help himself to some butter, hit his arm against a pitcher of water standing on the corner of the table.

Over it went and broke, just as pitchers will whenever they get a chance.

This was too much for the tired mother's patience; what little she had vanished.