the first time, a basket upon
the table. A pleased smile overspread his face. So they had not
forgotten, after all! How he and Martha had always watched for that
Christmas basket from Cousin John's folks over at the market town! It
was not so much the value of the gift, for John was not over-plentifully
blessed with the goods of this world and had a large family dependent
upon him. It was more the fact of being remembered kindly, the knowledge
that there was still some one who thought of them occasionally.

He commenced unpacking the basket and arranging the contents upon the
table: home-baked bread, pies, cakes; a package of tea, another of
tobacco; oranges, nuts, candy; warm mittens and socks that John's wife
had knit for him. She was a good woman, John's wife, kind-hearted and
thoughtful; she must have guessed how badly he needed socks and mittens
now that Martha was no longer there to make them for him. He started for
the cupboard, a pie in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other, then
stopped in the middle of the room and eyed them meditatively. What was
it Martha used to say?

"Never, never let Christmas pass without doing something for some one.
No matter how poor one may be, Tony, they're always others poorer still.
If it be no more'n a loaf of bread, give something to the poor at
Christmas time in the name of the little Babe that had none but the
shepherds to do a hand's turn for Him."

Each year he and Martha had found some one to whom they gave in the
Christ-Child's name, for the sake of the girl who was never absent from
their thoughts by day or by night. Even last year, as poor as he was, he
had met with one more needy still and sent him on his way rejoicing--a
poor lad, out of work, out of money, tramping from city to city in
search of employment. They had taken him in for Sallie's sake, given him
food and shelter, and when the boy left the farm a silver dollar, nearly
the last of Tony's small store, was pressed into his hand. The dollar
had been returned, for at the next town the object of Tony's charity had
found steady work. That was last year. This Christmas he was not doing
a thing for any one; he had forgotten completely, probably because
Martha was not there to remind him.

He placed the bread and the pie back upon the table and stood looking at
them long and earnestly. He knew of one who needed them far more than he
did, a poor widow over in "the hollow," whose five small children,
sickly, starv