d a
bald-headed old gentleman, stopping before her with a large bell in his
hand.

"I've had my supper," quickly answered Debby.

"I don't remember counting you at the table," he replied, wiping the
perspiration from his forehead as he passed on, loudly ringing the bell.

"I didn't tell a story," sighed Debby, "for I've had my supper; but I'd
like people to think I'd had it here. It looks so nice to sit at the
table," she added, catching a glimpse of Annie's blue ribbons as she sat
at the table next her brother.

"How thoughtless I _have_ been!" cried Mrs. White, returning in a
fluster. "I forgot all about you; you must be tired to death."

"Only a little tired," said Debby, "and I am so glad to do anything for
you."

"Well, you must come and see me," invited Mrs. White, with her mouth
full of pins, as she rolled the baby into a large shawl, "and perhaps I
can find something for you to read."

But when Debby stood up she felt more stiff and tired than she had
acknowledged, and, fearing that she had stayed too late, she hurried on
her wraps, and with much persuasion induced her brothers to go home with
her.

"It wouldn't do us any good to stay and see the auction," she reasoned,
closing the door upon the noisy scene with a heart lighter than when she
had entered it. "Now let us see how fast we can trot home in the
moonlight."

Giving a hand to each of the boys, they walked swiftly toward the little
red farm-house, where, although their parents had retired, a lamp and a
bright fire awaited them.

The kitchen seemed very quiet after the hubbub they had left, with the
clock on the stroke of nine and the cat asleep in the wood-box.

There were three pieces of pumpkin-pie on the table, left as a lunch for
them, and these they ate, talking in whispers; and then Debby unfastened
the boys' neckties, and followed them upstairs, too tired and sleepy to
be very glad or very sorry about anything.

But as she snuggled down under the blankets, with the "merry din" still
ringing in her ears, she thought:

"I have not made much Christmas for any one to-day, but, when I'm
grown-up, _wont_ I make Merry Christmas for little girls!"

[Illustration: Chapter end decoration.]

THE COOLEST MAN IN RUSSIA.

(_An Old Soldier's Reminiscence._)

BY DAVID KER.

[Illustration]

"I've seen many a brave man in my time, sure enough," said old Ivan
Starikoff, removing his short pipe to puff out a volume of smoke from
b