You hush yo' mouf," said his mother, and she left the lamp where it
was.

As Arabella Coe wended her way home that night her brain was busy with
many thoughts. "I've got my story at last," she told herself, "and I'll
go on up and write it." But she did not go up to write it. She came to
the parting of the ways. One led home, the other to the newspaper office
where she worked. She laughed nervously, and took the former way. Once
in her room she went through her small store of savings. There was very
little there, then she looked down ruefully at her worn boots. She did
need a new pair. Then, holding her money in her hand, she sat down to
think.

"It's really a shame," she said to herself, "those children will have no
Christmas at all, and they'll never believe in Santa Claus again. They
will lose their faith forever and from this it will go to other things."
She sat there dreaming for a long while and the vision of a very
different childhood came before her eyes.

"Dear old place," she murmured softly, "I believed in Santa Claus until
I was thirteen, and that oldest boy is scarcely ten." Suddenly she
sprung to her feet. "Hooray," she cried, "I'll be defender of the
faith," and she went out into the lighted streets again.

The shopkeepers looked queerly at Arabella that night as she bought as
if she were the mother of a large and growing family, and she appeared
too young for that. Finally, there was a dress for mother.

She carried them down on "D" Street and placed them stealthily at the
door of Number Ten. She put a note among the things, which read: "I am
getting old and didn't see your house last year, also I am getting fat
and couldn't get down that little stove pipe of yours this year. You
must excuse me. Santa Claus." Then looking wilfully at her shoes, but
nevertheless with a glow on her face, she went up to the office to write
her story.

There were joyous times at Number Ten the next day. Mother was really
surprised, and the children saw it.

"Wha'd I tell you," said dreamy Sam.

Tom said nothing then, but when he went down to the avenue to sell the
morning papers, all resplendent in a new muffler, he strode up to a boy
and remarked belligerently, "Say, if you says de ain't no Santy Claus
again, I'll punch yo' head."

_Eight_

CAHOOTS

In the centre of the quaint old Virginia grave-yard stood two monuments
side by side--two plain granite shafts exactly alike. On one was
inscribed the name