“Is it possible, M. Agricola?  You tell me so, and I believe it; but if good can so easily be done, if there is even an advantage in doing it, why is it not more commonly attempted?”

“Ah! mademoiselle, it requires three gifts very rarely met with in the same person—­knowledge, power and will.”

“Alas! yes.  Those who have the knowledge, have not the power.”

“And those who have the power, have neither the knowledge nor the will.”

“But how does M. Hardy find any advantage in the good he does for you?”

“I will explain that presently, mademoiselle.”

“Oh, what a nice, sweet smell of fruit!” said Angela, suddenly.

“Our common fruit-store is close at hand.  I wager we shall find there some of the little birds from the dormitory—­not occupied in picking and stealing, but hard at work.”

Opening a door, Agricola led Angela into a large room, furnished with shelves, on which the winter fruits were arranged in order.  A number of children, from seven to eight years old, neatly and warmly clad, and glowing with health, exerted themselves cheerfully, under the superintendence of a woman, in separating and sorting the spoiled fruit.

“You see,” said Agricola, “wherever it is possible, we make use of the children.  These occupations are amusements for them, answering to the need of movement and activity natural to their age; and, in this way, we can employ the grown girls and the women to much better advantage.”

“True, M. Agricola; how well it is all arranged.”

“And if you saw what services the urchins in the kitchen render!  Directed by one or two women, they do the work of eight or ten servants.”

“In fact,” said Angela, smiling, “at their age, we like so much to play at cooking dinner.  They must be delighted.”

“And, in the same way, under pretext of playing at gardening, they weed the ground, gather the fruit and vegetables, water the flowers, roll the paths, and so on.  In a word, this army of infant-workers, who generally remain till ten or twelve years of age without being of any service, are here very useful.  Except three hours of school, which is quite sufficient for them, from the age of six or seven their recreations are turned to good account, and the dear little creatures, by the saving of full-grown arms which they effect, actually gain more than they cost; and then, mademoiselle, do you not think there is something in the presence of childhood thus mixed up with every labor—­something mild, pure, almost sacred, which has its influence on our words and actions, and imposes a salutary reserve?  The coarsest man will respect the presence of children.”

“The more one reflects, the more one sees that everything here is really designed for the happiness of all!” said Angela, in admiration.

“It has not been done without trouble.  It was necessary to conquer prejudices, and break through customs.  But see, Mdlle.  Angela! here we are at the kitchen,” added the smith, smiling; “is it not as imposing as that of a barrack or a public school?”