vexes you or is unkind, look at these pearls, and forgive, oh! a
hundred times over; twice, thrice, for every pearl, because Kris said
it. You won't understand now, but some day you will."

"Yes, sir," said Alice, puzzled, and playing with the pearls.

Said Hugh, "You said, Mr. Khwis, that the oysters make pearls. Why do
the oysters make pearls?"

"I will tell you," replied Kris. "If a bit of something rough or sharp
gets inside the oyster's house, and it can't be got rid of, the oyster
begins to make a pearl of it, and covers it over and over until the
rough, rude thing is one of these beautiful pearls."

"I see," said Hugh.

"That is a little fairy tale I made for myself; I often make stories
for myself."

"That must be very nice, Mr. Khwis. How nice it must be for your
little children every night when you tell them stories."

"Yes--yes"--and here Kris had to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief.

"Isn't that a doll?" said Alice, looking at the bag.

"Yes; a doll from Japan."

"Oh!" exclaimed Alice.

"And boxes of sugar-plums for Christmas," he added. "And, Hugh, here
are skates for you and this bundle of books."

"Thank you, sir."

"And these--and these for my--for Alice," and Kris drew forth a
half-dozen delicate Eastern scarves and cast them, laughing, around
the girl's neck as she stood delighted.

"And now I want to trust you. This is for--for your mother; only an
envelope from Kris to her. Inside is a fairy paper, and whenever she
pleases it will turn to gold--oh! much gold, and she will be able then
to keep her old home and you need never go away, and the pony will
stay."

"Oh! that will be nice. We do sank you, sir; don't we, Alice?"

"Yes. But now I must go. Kiss me. You _will_ kiss me?" He seemed to
doubt it.

"Oh! yes," they cried, and cast their little arms about him while he
held them in a long embrace, loath to let them go.

"O Alice!" said Hugh, "Mr. Khwis is cwying. What's the matter, Mr.
Khwis?"

"Nothing," he said. "Once I had two little children, and you see you
look like them, and--and I have not seen them this long while."

Alice silently reflected on the amount of presents which Kris's
children must have, but Hugh said:

"We are bofe wewy sorry for you, Mr. Khwis."

"Thank you," he returned, "I shall remember that, and now be still a
little, I must write to your mother, and you must give her my letter
after she has my present."

"Yes," said Alice, "we will."

Then