desirous of helping. She
would never forget the previous Christmas Eve, when, laden with good
will and be-ribboned offerings, Marjorie had smilingly appeared at the
little gray house where Poverty reigned supreme and helped her transform
Charlie's rickety express wagon into a veritable fairy couch, piled high
with the precious tokens of unselfish love. She felt that the only way
in which she might show her lasting gratitude for the gifts of that
snowy Christmas Eve was to share her blessings with others who were in
need, and she quickly became Marjorie's most faithful servitor.

Good-natured Jerry was also keen to bestow her time and world goods in
the Christmas cause, and almost every afternoon when school was over the
three girls conspired together in the cause of happiness. Marjorie
unearthed a trunk of her childish toys from an obscure corner of the
garret, and a great mending and refurbishing movement ensued. Jerry, not
to be outdone, canvassed among her friends for suitable gifts to lay at
the shrine of Christmas, which rose to life eternal when three wise men
placed their reverent offerings at the feet of a Holy Child long
centuries before. While Constance Stevens drew largely on a sum of
money, which her indulgent aunt had placed in the bank to her credit and
enjoyed to the full the blessedness of giving.

"Maybe we haven't been busy little helpers, though," declared Jerry
Macy one blustering afternoon, as the three girls sat in the Deans'
living room, surrounded by ribbon-bound packages of all shapes and
sizes. "Truly, I never had such a good time before in all my life."

"That's just the way I feel," nodded Constance, as she tied an
astounding bow of red ribazine about an oblong package that
suggested a doll, and consulted a fat note book, lying wide
spread on the library table, for the address of the prospective
possessor. "Marjorie, will you ever forget how happy Charlie was
last year?"

"Dear little Charlie!" Marjorie's lips smiled tender reminiscence of the
tiny boy's jubilation over his wonderful discovery that Santa Claus had
not forgotten him. "His Christmas will be a merry one this year, even to
the good, strong leg that he hoped Santa would bring him."

"He can't possibly be any happier than he was _last_ Christmas morning,"
was Constance's soft reply. "And it was all through you, Marjorie."

"Oh, I wasn't the only one. Your father and you and Uncle John gave him
things, and Delia popped the cor