, Arna?" queried Peggy.

"Not a bit of it, and I'll have time to help you with your Caesar
before----"

"Before what?" asked Peggy, but got no answer. They had been translating
famously, when, in the late afternoon, there came a ring of the
doorbell. Peggy found Hazen bowing low, and craving "Mistress Peggy's
company." A sleigh and two prancing horses stood at the gate.

It was a glorious drive. Peggy's eyes danced and her laugh rang out at
Hazen's drolleries. The world stretched white all about them, and their
horses flew on and on like the wind. They rode till dark, then turned
back to the village, twinkling with lights.

The Brower house was alight in every window, and there was the sound of
many voices in the hall. The door flew open upon a laughing crowd of
boys and girls. Peggy, all glowing and rosy with the wind, stood utterly
bewildered until Esther rushed forward and hugged and shook her.

"It's a party!" she exclaimed. "One of your mother's waffle suppers!
We're all here! Isn't it splendid?"

"But, but, but----" stammered Peggy.

"'But, but, but,'" mimicked Esther. "But this is your vacation, don't
you see?"

FOOTNOTE:

[J] This story was first published in the _Youth's Companion_, vol. 77.

XV

LITTLE WOLFF'S WOODEN SHOES

A CHRISTMAS STORY BY FRANCOIS COPPEE; ADAPTED AND TRANSLATED BY ALMA J.
FOSTER

ONCE upon a time--so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date--in
a city in the north of Europe--with such a hard name that nobody can
ever remember it--there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolff,
whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt, who
never thought of kissing him more than once a year and who sighed deeply
whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.

But the poor little fellow had such a sweet nature that in spite of
everything, he loved the old woman, although he was terribly afraid of
her and could never look at her ugly old face without shivering.

As this aunt of little Wolff was known to have a house of her own and an
old woollen stocking full of gold, she had not dared to send the boy to
a charity school; but, in order to get a reduction in the price, she had
so wrangled with the master of the school, to which little Wolff finally
went, that this bad man, vexed at having a pupil so poorly dressed and
paying so little, often punished him unjustly, and even prejudiced his
companions against him, so that the three boys, all sons of rich