ike--is coming soon to see you."

She had emptied her little leathern bag, laid down her gifts on a
chair, and vanished before Winnie got up the stairs from the
wood-house, or Mrs. Slattery, in the closet, had finished skewering up
the goose, or a single little Slattery had found a word to say.

I cannot stay to tell you about the Slatterys' Christmas dinner, and
Mike perched up at the table, with brother Jack's cap on his head, and
the new pair of shoes on the floor by his side. I have just time to
stop a minute at Meadow Home, where a little golden head, with a
little blue velvet hat tilted atop, flits in before me at the great
hall door. As I went quickly through the holly and under the wreaths,
a little voice, in wheedling tones, called from the gallery above,--

"Stay to dine to dinner?"

At the same time a small dancing jack, dangling from somewhere
overhead, caught by his hands and feet in my chignon, as if striving
to pull me up. Ah, naughty Chrissy!

Chrissy clapped his hands in delight, and then dropping the string of
the little jack, ran away swiftly to hide.

"Do stay to dine, aunt Clara," begged Mabel, and Alice, and Ely, all
three springing forward at once to disengage the jumping jack from my
hair.

"Ah, do, Miss Clara; I've something to tell you about a little boy I
saw this morning," pleaded little golden-head, peering through an
evergreen arch. "Do stay and see the Christmas tree lighted after
dinner," besought all four, gathering closely around me.

But aunt Clara was engaged to dine at the square old house over the
way, with the dear old lady who could not see the pine wreaths that
made her old-fashioned parlor so sweet with their resinous, balmy
fragrance.

"They remind me of the times when my girls and boys were all about me
so gay and happy, and the old house resounded with their 'Merry
Christmas.' 'Tis many a year now, dear Clara, since there was a merry
Christmas here; but happy Christmases there have been, thank God, not
a few. A happy Christmas, dear, to you, and thanks for brightening the
day for me," said the old lady, with a gentle sigh, as I placed her at
the quiet table.

A merry, merry Christmas to all the little "Merrys" who read this
story. Do not forget that there are homes where live forlorn little
Mikes and Jimmys, whom you can make glad in this glad time; and do not
forget that there are sorrowing homes which the mere sight and sound
of your bright young faces and voic