in which Bridget was as much interested as they were themselves.

Arthur bustled about from one room to another, always the active,
cheery, hopeful boy, who kept everybody informed of what was going on
in the outside world; and he, too, evidently had some weighty secret
pressing against the buttons of his jacket. Christmas eve came, and
the children began to think it never would be dark enough for them to
get ready for Santa Claus.

"What are you going to do, Minnie?" inquired Mrs. Mulford, as Minnie
brought in the stockings to hang by the fire.

"Get ready for Santa Claus, mamma," was the reply. "You know that
to-morrow is Christmas!"

"But Santa Claus don't come to poor people, my child," and the tears
filled her eyes at the recollection of the generous gifts of former
years.

"Oh, yes he does, mamma," said Minnie, who was eleven years old, and
two years the senior of her sister; "yes he does! He knows where we
live." And she continued pinning the stockings upon the line she had
stretched across the mantel.

"I wish I could have afforded a tree!" sighed the mother, watching her
daughter's movements with considerable curiosity.

"We don't want a tree, do we, Maud? A stocking is ever so much nicer.
It looks so funny all stuffed out, and then you don't know what's in
it, and you have to shake it out, and hunt way in the toe! Then you
can put such tiny things in, to make everybody laugh."

Then she pinned on the names which Arthur had printed very nicely on
slips of paper, and stood off a little distance to admire her
handiwork.

Bridget was called in from the kitchen to see if it was all right, and
Arthur was induced to leave his work just for a minute to note the
effect of the display.

"Here now!" he exclaimed, "I told you to hang up the clothes bag for
me. You don't suppose that little thing will hold all my treasures, do
you? Is the chimney clear?" And he pretended to search anxiously for
anything that might prevent the descent of good old Santa Claus, whose
coming had never before been anticipated with such unqualified
delight.

Mrs. Mulford was in the midst of a troubled dream, when shouts of
"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" rang through the house, and
awakened her to the reality of the day she so long had dreaded.

She knew how dreadfully disappointed the children would be, it is so
hard for them to understand the exigencies of life, and wished she
might keep her room all day and have Bridget br