twine in grooves on the inside of the box. He tied them around the fleece so as to hold it firmly together.

At last he opened the box and out came a solid fleece of wool, in the shape of a cube about eighteen inches on each side.

"Oh, let me feel of it," said Bobby. He pressed his hands and face against the soft white wool.

"How much do you guess it weighs?" asked Mr. Hill, as he put it on the scales.

"Fifty pounds," said Bobby.

"Too much. Eight and a half," said Father, as he put the number down in a book.

"How do they make the wool into clothes?" asked Bobby.

"It is first spun into yarn," said Father. "Do you remember the old spinning wheel we have up in the attic?"

"Oh, yes," said Bobby. "That is what I turn my buzz-saw with."

"Well," said Father, "your grandmother used that wheel to spin yarn from wool like this."

"And then they knit stockings from the yarn," said Bobby.

"Yes," said Father; "but my grandmother used to weave the yarn into cloth on a loom. And she made the cloth into clothes for her children to wear."

"I wish Mother would spin yarn and make clothes," said Bobby.

"We find it cheaper to sell the wool and buy our clothes," said Father.

"And perhaps Mother has enough to do," said Bobby.

Then they went back to get another fleece.

When the sheep were all sheared, Rover drove them down the long lane to their pasture.

And it was not long before the whole flock were once more nibbling grass in the meadow.