sky. Don't you s'pose, though, 'twill be Christmas all the same,
if there's a snow storm?"

"There's been snow," said Susy, "all in the night. Look down at the
pavement. Don't you wish that was frosted cake?"

"O, the snow came in the night, so not to wake us up," cried Prudy,
clapping her hands; "but it wouldn't have waked us, you know, even in
the night, for it came so still."

"But why don't the clouds go off?" she added, sadly.

"I don't know," replied Susy; "perhaps they are waiting till the sun
comes and smiles them away."

Such happy children as these were, as they sat peeping out of the window
at the dull gray sky!

They did not know that a great mischief was begun that morning--a
mischief which was no larger yet than "a midge's wing." They were
watching the clouds for a snow storm; but they never dreamed of such
things as clouds of _trouble_, which grow darker and darker, and which
even the beautiful Christmas sun cannot "smile away."

CHAPTER III.

SUSY'S CHRISTMAS.

It was bright and beautiful all day, and then, when no one could
possibly wait any longer, it was Christmas evening. The coal glowed in
the grate with a splendid blaze: all the gas-burners were lighted, and
so were everybody's eyes. If one had listened, one might have heard,
from out of doors, a joyful tinkling of sleigh-bells; yet I fancy nobody
could have told whether the streets were still or noisy, or whether the
sky had a moon in it or not; for nobody was quiet long enough to notice.

But by and by, when the right time had come, the folding-doors were
opened, just like the two covers to a Christmas fairy book. Then, in a
second, it was so still you might have heard a pin drop.

Such a funny little old gentleman had arrived: his face alive with
dimples, and smiles, and wrinkles. His cheeks were as red and round as
winter apples, and where there wasn't a wrinkle there was a dimple; and
no doubt there was a dimple in his chin, and his chin maybe was double,
only you couldn't tell, for it was hidden ever so deep under a beard as
white as a snow-drift.

He walked along, tottering under the weight of a huge pack full of
presents. He extended his small arms towards the audience most
affectionately, and you could see that his antiquated coat-sleeves were
bristling with toys and glistening with ornaments. His eyes twinkled
with fun, and his mouth, which seemed nearly worn out with laughing,
grew bigger every minute.

It took t