"Oh, oh!" cried Kristy, "I'm afraid that'll not be very interesting."

"Well, you shall see," said mamma, "for I'm going to tell you how she
got up a whole Christmas tree alone, and made everything on it
herself."

"Oh!" said Kristy relieved, "that'll be good, I know; begin."

"Well, I'll begin where the story begins, as I have heard May tell it,
with a talk between her sister and herself. One morning a little
before Christmas the two girls got to talking about that happy time
and the way it is celebrated, and May listened eagerly to Lottie's
description of a tree she had at her aunt's the year before."

CHAPTER XII

LOTTIE'S CHRISTMAS TREE

"There's no use wishing for anything away out here in the woods," said
Lottie fretfully, rocking violently back and forth by the side of the
bed.

"No, of course we couldn't have one, but I should like to see a
Christmas tree before I die. It must be splendid!"

And poor, sick May turned wearily on her pillow.

"You're not going to die, May," said Lottie impatiently, "and I hope
you'll see lots of Christmas trees--if you don't this year. It's your
turn to go to Aunt Laura's next."

May sighed.

"I'm too tired, Lottie. I never shall go."

"Of course you're tired," said Lottie in the same fretful tone;
"nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to read--just lying on your
back, week after week, in this old log house. It's enough to make
anybody sick. I s'pose it's awful wicked, but I think it's just too
bad that we two girls have to live in this mean old shanty, with
nobody but stupid old Nancy!"

"Oh, Lottie," said the sick girl anxiously, "don't forget father, and
what a comfort we are to him."

"You are, you mean," interrupted Lottie.

"No, I mean you. I'm an expense and care to him; but what could he do
without you? And remember," she went on softly, "how he hated to bring
us to this lonely little place, and wanted to put us in school, and
leave us, but we begged him"--

"Yes, I remember," said Lottie regretfully, "and I am wicked as I can
be to talk so; but thinking about Aunt Laura's tree, it did seem too
bad you couldn't have one, too. You have so few pleasures."

"Oh, I have lots of pleasures!" cried May eagerly. "I love to lie here
and look out into the woods,--the dear, sweet, quiet woods,--and
remember the nice times we used to have before I was sick; and I
like"--

"You like some dinner by this time, I guess," said Nancy, coming in
with he