oes that make just so you get it?"

Pity for her mother's barren childhood shone in Hannah's soft black
eyes. "That's--that's no way for presents to come," she explained;
"Mama, it's Chris'mus."

"It is Chanuca," Mrs. Joseph responded firmly. "Remember you are a
Jewess, dear."

"I can't never forget it," said the child with a catch in her voice,
"'specially at Chris'mus."

"But, darling, the Jewish children have Chanuca; it comes about the same
time as Christmas, and amounts to the same thing."

Hannah shook her bronze curls. "Chanuca is because the children of
Israel took Jerusalem and the temple away from the bad people," she
recited glibly, "and--and you say prayers, and light candles--eight
days, and--and all your uncles and aunts and cousins send you things,
but Santy Claus, he don't pay any 'tention to Chanuca. Chris'mus is just
one day, and Santy Claus comes down the chimbley and brings things to
all good children--'cept little Jews--because it is the birthday of our
Saviour."

Mrs. Joseph was silent so long that Hannah felt she had convinced her
mother of the superiority of the Gentile Christmas over the Jewish
Chanuca, and she continued more in detail. "And the children's kinfolks
just give Santy Claus money, and tell him what to buy, and he brings the
presents, and nobody has to bother about it 'cept him."

"Hannah," Mrs. Joseph interrupted coldly, "who told you about the
birthday of--of the Saviour?"

"Nellie Halloran," answered Hannah, "and Virginia, too. They've--they've
got the same one."

"The same what?"

"The same Saviour," Hannah explained.

"Darling, hasn't Mama told you many times, that you must never, never
talk about religion to Nellie and Virginia?"

"Oh, we don't, Mama, never, never! But 'course we got to talk about
Santy Claus, and things."

There seemed to be no reasonable objection to that, so Mrs. Joseph
dropped the subject. She spent a great deal of time folding the despised
and rejected kimono into its tissue-paper wrappings. Presently she
brought a narrow parcel from another room.

"See what Uncle Aaron has sent you, dear," she cried gaily. "A little
man; you wind him up in the back with this key--so--and then he dances
and plays the fiddle!"

Hannah forced a polite giggle at the little man's antics. He too rested
under the ban of having come "through the door," and her attention soon
wandered.

"Nellie got a jumping-jack in the very top of her stocking last
Chris'mu