ly a week off. Bless you! I had so much to do that day
I was completely bewildered, and the hours weren't half long enough.
I did make a few social calls, but then I hurried them over; and then
hastened to my little girl, whose face had already caught a touch
of colour; and she, looking quite handsome in her new frock and her
ribbons, took me to other poor folk, and,--well, that's about the whole
story.

"Oh, as to the next Christmas. Well, I didn't dine alone, as you may
guess. It was up three stairs, that's true, and there was none of that
elegance that marked the dinner of the year before; but it was merry,
and happy, and bright; it was a generous, honest, hearty Christmas
dinner, that it was, although I do wish the widow hadn't talked so much
about the mysterious way a turkey had been left at her door the night
before. And Molly--that's the little girl--and I had a rousing appetite.
We went to church early; then we had been down to the Five Points to
carry the poor outcasts there something for their Christmas dinner; in
fact, we had done wonders of work, and Molly was in high spirits, and so
the Christmas dinner was a great success.

"Dear me, sir, no! Just as you say. Holidays are not in the least
wearisome any more. Plague on it! When a man tells me now that he hates
holidays, I find myself getting very wroth. I pin him by the buttonhole
at once, and tell him my experience. The fact is, if I were at dinner on
a holiday, and anybody should ask me for a sentiment, I should say, 'God
bless all holidays!'"

XXXI. MASTER SANDY'S SNAPDRAGON*

* This story was first published in Wide Awake, vol. 26.

ELDRIDGE S. BROOKS

There was just enough of December in the air and of May in the sky
to make the Yuletide of the year of grace 1611 a time of pleasure and
delight to every boy and girl in "Merrie England" from the princely
children in stately Whitehall to the humblest pot-boy and scullery-girl
in the hall of the country squire.

And in the palace at Whitehall even the cares of state gave place to
the sports of this happy season. For that "Most High and Mighty
Prince James, by the Grace of God King of Great Britain, France, and
Ireland"--as you will find him styled in your copy of the Old
Version, or what is known as "King James' Bible"--loved the Christmas
festivities, cranky, crabbed, and crusty though he was. And this year
he felt especially gracious. For now, first since the terror of the Guy
Fawkes plot