rden fence, and sit down on the roof of our
carriage-house. That brings them quite near, and I tell them stories. On
Thanksgiving Day they came up for a few minutes,--it was quite warm at
eleven o'clock,--and we told each other what we had to be thankful for;
but they gave such queer answers that Papa had to run away for fear of
laughing; and I couldn't understand them very well. Susan was thankful
for '_trunks_,' of all things in the world; Cornelius, for 'horse-cars;'
Kitty, for 'pork steak;' while Clem, who is very quiet, brightened up
when I came to him, and said he was thankful for '_his lame puppy_.'
Wasn't that pretty?"

"It might teach some of us a lesson, mightn't it, little girl?"

"That's what Mamma said. Now I'm going to give this whole Christmas to
the Ruggleses; and, Uncle Jack, I earned part of the money myself."

"You, my bird; how?"

"Well, you see, it could not be my own, own Christmas if Papa gave me
all the money, and I thought to really keep Christ's birthday I ought to
do something of my very own; and so I talked with Mamma. Of course she
thought of something lovely; she always does: Mamma's head is just
brimming over with lovely thoughts,--all I have to do is ask, and out
pops the very one I want. This thought was to let her write down, just
as I told her, a description of how a child lived in her own room for
three years, and what she did to amuse herself; and we sent it to a
magazine and got twenty-five dollars for it. Just think!"

"Well, well," cried Uncle Jack, "my little girl a real author! And what
are you going to do with this wonderful 'own' money of yours?"

"I shall give the nine Ruggleses a grand Christmas dinner here in this
very room--that will be Papa's contribution,--and afterwards a beautiful
Christmas tree, fairly blooming with presents--that will be my part; for
I have another way of adding to my twenty-five dollars, so that I can
buy nearly anything I choose. I should like it very much if you would
sit at the head of the table, Uncle Jack, for nobody could ever be
frightened of you, you dearest, dearest, dearest thing that ever was!
Mamma is going to help us, but Papa and the boys are going to eat
together downstairs for fear of making the little Ruggleses shy; and
after we've had a merry time with the tree we can open my window and all
listen together to the music at the evening church-service, if it comes
before the children go. I have written a letter to the organist, a