No wonder the poor little culprits cooped up indoors sewing red and
blue and green pieces of calico together, looked sad. Every day bales
of calico were left at the door of the Patchwork School, and it all
had to be cut up in little bits and sewed together again. When the
children heard the heavy tread of the porters bringing in the bales
of new calico, the tears would leave the corners of their eyes
and trickle down their poor little cheeks, at the prospect of the
additional work they would have to do. All the patchwork had to be
sewed over and over, and every crooked or too long stitch had to be
picked out; for the Patchwork Woman was very particular. They had to
make all their own clothes of patchwork, and after those were done,
patchwork bed quilts, which were given to the city poor; so the
benevolent lady killed two birds with one stone, as you might say.
[Illustration: THE PATCHWORK GIRL.]
Of course, children staid in the Patchwork School different lengths of
time, according to their different offenses. But there were very few
children in the city who had not sat in a little chair and sewed
patchwork, at one time or another, for a greater or less period.
Sooner or later, the best children were sure to think they were
ill-treated by their parents, and had to go to bed earlier than they
ought, or did not have as much candy as other children; and the police
would hear them grumbling, and drag them off to the Patchwork School.
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