e sun would really forget to show
his face; but all the while they waited they were eating candy; so it
was neither dull nor lonely. As for closing their eyes again, they would
have scorned the idea. It would be a pity indeed to fall asleep, and
lose the pleasure of saying "Merry Christmas" to everybody. Norah, the
Irish servant, had said she should be up very early to attend High Mass:
they must certainly waylay her on the stairs. How astonished she would
be, when she supposed they were both soundly asleep!

"Let me do it myself," said Susy: "you stay here, Prudy, for you'll be
sure to make a noise."

"I'll go on my tippy toes," pleaded Prudy, her mouth half filled with
chocolate drops.

So through their mother's room they stole softly, only throwing over
one chair, and hitting Dotty's crib a little in their haste. Dotty made
a sleepy sound of alarm, and Prudy could not help laughing, but only "in
her sleeve," that is, in her "nightie" sleeve, which she put up to her
mouth to smother the noise.

When they had reached the back-stairs Susy whispered, "O, Norah is up
and gone down. I hear her in the kitchen. 'Sh! 'Sh!"

Susy thought there was no time to be lost, and she would have rushed
down stairs, two steps at a time, but her little sister was exactly in
the way.

"Somebody has been and tugged my little chair up here," said Prudy,
"and I must tug it back again."

So in the dim light the two children groped their way down stairs, Prudy
going first with the chair.

"O, what a little snail! Hurry--can't you?" said Susy, impatiently;
"Norah'll be gone! What's the use of our waking up in the night if we
can't say Merry Christmas to anybody?"

"Well, _ain't_ I a-hurryin' now?" exclaimed Prudy, plunging forward and
falling, chair and all, the whole length of the stairs.

All the house was awake now, for Prudy screamed lustily. Grandma Read
called out from the passage-way,--

"O, little Prudence, has thee broken thy neck?"

Mrs. Parlin rushed out, too frightened to speak, and Mr. Parlin ran down
stairs, and took Prudy up in his arms.

"It was--you--did it--Susy Parlin," sobbed the child. "I
shouldn't--have--fell, if you--hadn't--have--screamed."

The poor little girl spoke slowly and with difficulty, as if she dropped
a bucket into her full heart, and drew up the words one at a time.

"O, mother, I know it was me," said Susy meekly; "and I was careless,
and it was all in the dark. I'm sure I hope Prudy'll fo