come off the avenue--not from the look of him. You know there's hundreds
and hundreds of dogs without homes, sir. But I will say for this one, he
has a kind of a way with him."

"Hark!" said Mr. Carter.

There was a rustling and a snuffing at the door at the far end of the
room, a quick scratching of feet. Then:

"Woof! woof! woof!" sharp and clear came happy impatient little barks.
The philanthropist's eyes brightened. "Yes," he said, "that is the dog."

"I doubt if it can be, sir," said Mrs. Bailey, deprecatingly.

"Open the door, please," commanded the philanthropist, "and let us see."
Mrs. Bailey complied. There was a quick jump, a tumbling rush, and
Skiddles, the lost Skiddles, was in the philanthropist's arms. Mrs.
Bailey shut the door with a troubled face.

"I see it's your dog, sir," she said, "but I hope you won't be thinking
that Jimmy or I----"

"Madam," interrupted Mr. Carter, "I could not be so foolish. On the
contrary, I owe you a thousand thanks."

Mrs. Bailey looked more cheerful. "Poor little Billy!" she said. "It'll
come hard on him, losing Pete just at Christmas time. But the boys are
so good to him, I dare say he'll forget it."

"Who are these boys?" inquired the philanthropist. "Isn't their
action--somewhat unusual?"

"It's Miss Gray's club at the settlement, sir," explained Mrs. Bailey.
"Every Christmas they do this for somebody. It's not charity; Billy and
I don't need charity, or take it. It's just friendliness. They're good
boys."

"I see," said the philanthropist. He was still wondering about it,
though, when the door opened again, and Jimmy thrust out a face shining
with anticipation.

"All ready, mister!" he said. "Bill's waitin' for you!"

"Jimmy," began Mrs. Bailey, about to explain, "the gentleman----"

But the philanthropist held up his hand, interrupting her. "You'll let
me see your son, Mrs. Bailey?" he asked, gently.

"Why, certainly, sir."

Mr. Carter put Skiddles down and walked slowly into the inner room. The
bed stood with its side toward him. On it lay a small boy of seven,
rigid of body, but with his arms free and his face lighted with joy.

"Hello, Santa Claus!" he piped, in a voice shrill with excitement.

"Hello, Bill!" answered the philanthropist, sedately.

The boy turned his eyes on Jimmy.

"He knows my name," he said, with glee.

"He knows everybody's name," said Jimmy. "Now you tell him what you
want, Bill, and he'll bring it to-morrow.

"How