a, dear. She has no child to love. She
has a very sad and lonely life."

Her teeth chattered a little. "It seems like a very cold night; the
covers are quite thin, but we can never really suffer while our hearts
are so warm. I'm glad you feel real well, and are just as plump as ever,
but your little skin is just one bit wrinkled. You are not going to take
cold or be sick? Oh, I couldn't give you up! I should miss you so much,
you happy, good little child."

Miss Amanda heard a kiss. "Good-night, dear. I'm so tired. God bless us
all, and help us to remember Miss Amanda, and let her find her present
to-night."

Miss Amanda crept back to her warm room, and waited until she was sure
the child was fast asleep. Then she took a down quilt off the foot of
her own bed, picked up her candle, and retraced her way up-stairs.

She softly dropped the comforter upon Elsie. She heard, as a sort of
echo, a soft sigh of content. Miss Amanda waited a moment, then shading
the candle with one hand, she looked at the sleeping child.

The face was pale and thin. The lashes lay dark upon the white cheeks.
They were quite wet; but, pressed close to them, and carefully covered
by little, toil-hardened hands, was the grotesque potato in its white
night-gown.

Miss Amanda was surprised by a queer click in her throat, and hurried
out of the room.

She stood before her fire, candle in hand, and bitterly compressed her
lips. She hopes "I'll find my Christmas present to-night. Who will send
it to me, and what will it be? Whom do I care for, and who cares for me?
No one. Not one human being."

She crossed the room, and, placing her candle upon the dressing-table,
gazed at herself in the glass. "I am growing old, old and hard, and
perfectly friendless."

But why that start and cry? There before her eyes, in the big,
flourishing, boyish handwriting so well remembered, she reads: "Our
love can never die. We have nothing in the world except each other, dear
sister, and no matter what may come, our love can never change."

She snatched up the paper and threw herself into a chair.

"Where did it come from"? she cried. "What evil genius placed it here
this night? Haven't I, years ago, torn and destroyed every word that
wretched boy ever wrote me?"

She tossed her arms over her head, and rocked back and forth, and
groaned aloud. She could not help her thoughts now, or keep them from
going back over the past. Her heart softened as she remembered,