hapel of the Sacred Heart in
Montreal. One little St. John looked like this, only he had a lamb
instead of wings," said Jill, stroking the flaxen hair, and wishing she
dared ask for it to play with.

"He is the children's saint to pray to, love, and imitate, for he never
forgot them, but blessed and healed and taught them all his life. This
is only a poor image of the holiest baby ever born, but I hope it will
keep his memory in your minds all day, because this is the day for good
resolutions, happy thoughts, and humble prayers, as well as play and
gifts and feasting."

While she spoke, Mrs. Minot, touching the little figure as tenderly as
if it were alive, had tied a broad white ribbon round it, and, handing
it to Ralph, bade him fasten it to the hook above the tree-top, where it
seemed to float as if the downy wings supported it.

Jack and Jill lay silently watching, with a sweet sort of soberness in
their young faces, and for a moment the room was very still as all eyes
looked up at the Blessed Child. The sunshine seemed to grow more
golden as it flickered on the little head, the flames glanced about
the glittering tree as if trying to climb and kiss the baby feet, and,
without, a chime of bells rang sweetly, calling people to hear again the
lovely story of the life begun on Christmas Day.

Only a minute, but it did them good, and presently, when the pleasant
work was over, and the workers gone, the boys to church, and Mamma to
see about lunch for the invalids, Jack said, gravely, to Jill,--

"I think we ought to be extra good, every one is so kind to us, and we
are getting well, and going to have such capital times. Don't see how we
can do anything else to show we are grateful."

"It isn't easy to be good when one is sick," said Jill, thoughtfully.
"I fret dreadfully, I get so tired of being still. I want to scream
sometimes, but I don't, because it would scare Mammy, so I cry. Do you
cry, Jack?"

"Men never do. I want to tramp round when things bother me; but I can't,
so I kick and say, 'Hang it!' and when I get very bad I pitch into
Frank, and he lets me. I tell you, Jill, he's a good brother!" and Jack
privately resolved then and there to invite Frank to take it out of him
in any form he pleased as soon as health would permit.

"I rather think we _shall_ grow good in this pretty place, for I don't
see how we can be bad if we want to, it is all so nice and sort of pious
here," said Jill, with her eyes on