allows his trees to be delivered in this fashion."

"I ain't deliverin' it, either," said the boy. "This is Bill's tree."

"Who is Bill?"

"He's a feller with a back that's no good."

"Is he your brother?"

"No. Take the tree a little way, will you, while I warm myself?"

The philanthropist accepted the burden--he did not know why. The boy,
released, ran forward, jumped up and down, slapped his red flannel
mittens on his legs, and then ran back again. After repeating these
manoeuvres two or three times, he returned to where the old gentleman
stood holding the tree.

"Thanks," he said. "Say, mister, you look like Santa Claus yourself,
standin' by the tree, with your fur cap and your coat. I bet you don't
have to run to keep warm, hey?" There was high admiration in his look.
Suddenly his eyes sparkled with an inspiration.

"Say, mister," he cried, "will you do something for me? Come in to
Bill's--he lives only a block from here--and just let him see you. He's
only a kid, and he'll think he's seen Santa Claus, sure. We can tell him
you're so busy to-morrow you have to go to lots of places to-day. You
won't have to give him anything. We're looking out for all that. Bill
got hurt in the summer, and he's been in bed ever since. So we are
giving him a Christmas--tree and all. He gets a bunch of things--an air
gun, and a train that goes around when you wind her up. They're great!"

"You boys are doing this?"

"Well, it's our club at the settlement, and of course Miss Gray thought
of it, and she's givin' Bill the train. Come along, mister."

But Mr. Carter declined.

"All right," said the boy. "I guess, what with Pete and all, Bill will
have Christmas enough."

"Who is Pete?"

"Bill's dog. He's had him three weeks now--the best little pup you ever
saw!"

A dog which Bill had had three weeks--and in a neighbourhood not a
quarter of a mile from the avenue. It was three weeks since Skiddles had
disappeared. That this dog was Skiddles was of course most improbable,
and yet the philanthropist was ready to grasp at any clue which might
lead to the lost terrier.

"How did Bill get this dog?" he demanded.

"I found him myself. Some kids had tin-canned him, and he came into our
entry. He licked my hand, and then sat up on his hind legs. Somebody'd
taught him that, you know. I thought right away, 'Here's a dog for
Bill!' And I took him over there and fed him, and they kept him in
Bill's room two or three days, so he