ing into the oven something on a little cracked
plate that would have been a pie if there were any centre; but lacking
that necessary accompaniment, probably was a short-cake. "Just as easy
as not," he repeated with emphasis, slamming the door, to give point to
his remarks.

"No, you couldn't either," said Ben at the table with equal decision;
"not a bit of it, Jasper King!"

"Why, Ben Pepper?" asked Jasper, "that oven's big enough! I should like
to know why not?"

"'Cause there isn't anything to cook," said Ben coolly, cutting out a
piece of dough for a jumble; "we don't keep Thanksgiving."

"Not keep Thanksgiving!" said Jasper, standing quite still; "never had a
Thanksgiving! well, I declare," and then he stopped again.

"Yes," answered Ben; "we had one once; 'twas last year--but that wasn't
much."

"Well then," said Jasper, leaning over the table, "I'll tell you what I
should think you'd do--try Christmas."

"Oh, that's always worse," said Polly, setting down her rolling-pin to
think--which immediately rolled away by itself off from the table.

"We never had a Christmas," said little Davie reflectively; "what are
they like, Jasper?"

Jasper sat quite still, and didn't reply to this question for a moment
or two.

To be among children who didn't like Thanksgiving, and who "never
had seen a Christmas," and "didn't know what it was like," was a new
revelation to him.

"They hang up stockings," said Polly softly.

How many, many times she had begged her mother to try it for the younger
ones; but there was never anything to put in them, and the winters were
cold and hard, and the strictest economy only carried them through.

"Oh!" said little Phronsie in horror, "are their feet in 'em, Polly?"

"No dear," said Polly; while Jasper instead of laughing, only stared.
Something requiring a deal of thought was passing through the boy's mind
just then. "They shall have a Christmas!" he muttered, "I know father'll
let me." But he kept his thoughts to himself; and becoming his own gay,
kindly self, he explained and told to Phronsie and the others, so many
stories of past Christmases he had enjoyed, that the interest over the
baking soon dwindled away, until a horrible smell of something burning
brought them all to their senses.

"Oh! the house is burning!" cried Polly. "Oh get a pail of water!"

"Tisn't either," said Jasper, snuffing wisely; "oh! I know--I forgot all
about it--I do beg your pardon." And running