one; but all the rest took
the entire variety, without any regard to consequences.

"My dear child," whispered Uncle Jack, as he took Carol an orange,
"there is no doubt about the necessity of this feast, but I do advise
you after this to have them twice a year, or quarterly, perhaps, for
the way they eat is positively dangerous; I assure you I tremble for
that terrible Peoria. I'm going to run races with her after dinner."

"Never mind," laughed Carol, "let them eat for once; it does my heart
good to see them, and they shall come oftener next year."

The feast being over, the Ruggleses lay back in their chairs languidly,
and the table was cleared in a trice; then a door was opened into the
next room, and there, in a corner facing Carol's bed, which had been
wheeled as close as possible, stood the brilliantly lighted
Christmas-tree, glittering with gilded walnuts and tiny silver
balloons, and wreathed with snowy chains of pop-corn. The presents had
been bought mostly with Carol's story money, and were selected after
long consultations with Mrs. Bird. Each girl had a blue knitted hood,
and each boy a red crocheted comforter, all made by Mama, Carol and
Elfrida ("because if you buy everything, it doesn't show so much love,"
said Carol). Then every girl had a pretty plaid dress of a different
color, and every boy a warm coat of the right size. Here the useful
presents stopped, and they were quite enough; but Carol had pleaded to
give them something "for fun." "I know they need the clothes," she had
said, when they were talking over the matter just after Thanksgiving,
"but they don't care much for them, after all. Now, Papa, won't you
PLEASE let me go without part of my presents this year, and give me the
money they would cost, to buy something to amuse them?"

"You can have both," said Mr. Bird, promptly; "is there any need of my
little girl's going without her Christmas, I should like to know?
Spend all the money you like."

"But that isn't the thing," objected Carol, nestling close to her
father; "it wouldn't be mine. What is the use? Haven't I almost
everything already, and am I not the happiest girl in the world this
year, with Uncle Jack and Donald at home? Now, Papa, you know very
well it is more blessed to give than to receive; then why won't you let
me do it? You never look half as happy when you are getting your
presents as when you are giving us ours. Now, Papa, submit, or I shall
have to be very