ight in the morning to rake among the snow near the
door, although her throat was sore beyond concealment, her jaws stiff,
and the pleasant languor and quick-wittedness had given way to
restless fever.

Her conscience did prick her a little for the anxiety she was bringing
upon her mother (her own sufferings she never forecast); but she could
not give up her Christmas-tree without a struggle, and she hoped by a
few familiar remedies to drive back the threatened illness.

Meanwhile, if the shillings were not found before eleven o'clock it
would be too late to send to the town shop by the carrier. But they
were not found, and the old hooded cart rumbled away without them.

It was Christmas Eve. The boys were bustling about with holly. Darling
was perched on a very high chair in the kitchen, picking raisins in
the most honourable manner, without eating one, and Madam Liberality
ought to have been the happiest of all.

Even now she dried her tears, and made the best of her ill-luck. The
sweetmeats were very good; and it was yet in her power to please the
others, though by a sacrifice from which she had shrunk. She could
divide her scallop-shells among them. It was economy--economy of
resources--which made her hesitate. Separated--they would please the
boys once, and then be lost. Kept together in her own possession--they
would be a constant source of triumph for herself, and of treats for
her brothers and sister.

Meanwhile, she would gargle her throat with salt and water. As she
crept up-stairs with this purpose, she met her mother.

Madam Liberality had not looked in the looking-glass lately, so she
did not understand her mother's exclamation of distress when they met.
Her face was perfectly white, except where dark marks lay under her
eyes, and her small lips formed between them the rigid line of pain.
It was impossible to hold out any longer, and Madam Liberality broke
down and poured forth all her woes.

"I'll put my feet in hot water, and do anything you like, mother
dear," said she, "if only you'll let me try and have a tree, and keep
it secret from the others. I do so want to surprise them."

"If you'll go to your room, my darling, and do as I tell you, I'll
keep your secret, and help you with your tree," said her mother.
"Don't cry, my child, don't cry; it's so bad for your throat. I think
I can find you some beads to make a necklace for Darling, and three
pencils for the boys, and some paper which you can