ame too, and
listened, and even the sealskin lady turned her head over her
shoulder.

By and by the children fell asleep, one on Aunt Cyrilla's lap and one
on Lucy Rose's, and two on the seat. Aunt Cyrilla and the pale girl
helped the mother make up beds for them. The minister gave his
overcoat and the sealskin lady came forward with a shawl.

"This will do for the baby," she said.

"We must get up some Santa Claus for these youngsters," said the khaki
boy. "Let's hang their stockings on the wall and fill 'em up as best
we can. I've nothing about me but some hard cash and a jack-knife.
I'll give each of 'em a quarter and the boy can have the knife."

"I've nothing but money either," said the sealskin lady regretfully.

Aunt Cyrilla glanced at the little mother. She had fallen asleep with
her head against the seat-back.

"I've got a basket over there," said Aunt Cyrilla firmly, "and I've
some presents in it that I was taking to my nephew's children. I'm
going to give 'em to these. As for the money, I think the mother is
the one for it to go to. She's been telling me her story, and a
pitiful one it is. Let's make up a little purse among us for a
Christmas present."

The idea met with favour. The khaki boy passed his cap and everybody
contributed. The sealskin lady put in a crumpled note. When Aunt
Cyrilla straightened it out she saw that it was for twenty dollars.

Meanwhile, Lucy Rose had brought the basket. She smiled at Aunt
Cyrilla as she lugged it down the aisle and Aunt Cyrilla smiled back.
Lucy Rose had never touched that basket of her own accord before.

Ray's boat went to Jacky, and Daisy's doll to his oldest sister, the
twins' lace handkerchiefs to the two smaller girls and the hood to the
baby. Then the stockings were filled up with doughnuts and jelly
cookies and the money was put in an envelope and pinned to the little
mother's jacket.

"That baby is such a dear little fellow," said the sealskin lady
gently. "He looks something like my little son. He died eighteen
Christmases ago."

Aunt Cyrilla put her hand over the lady's kid glove. "So did mine,"
she said. Then the two women smiled tenderly at each other. Afterwards
they rested from their labours and all had what Aunt Cyrilla called a
"snack" of sandwiches and pound cake. The khaki boy said he hadn't
tasted anything half so good since he left home.

"They didn't give us pound cake in South Africa," he said.

When morning came the storm was