lly as she twisted up her pretty hair. "How dismal it must be
to be so forlorn as that on Christmas Eve of all times. Ugh! I'm glad
I have friends."

"I saw Miss Allen watching us as we opened our parcels and letters,"
Beth went on. "I happened to look up once, and such an expression as
was on her face, girls! It was pathetic and sad and envious all at
once. It really made me feel bad--for five minutes," she concluded
honestly.

"Hasn't Miss Allen any friends at all?" asked Beth.

"No, I don't think she has," answered Jean. "She has lived here for
fourteen years, so Mrs. Pickrell says. Think of that, girls! Fourteen
years at Chestnut Terrace! Is it any wonder that she is thin and
dried-up and snappy?"

"Nobody ever comes to see her and she never goes anywhere," said Beth.
"Dear me! She must feel lonely now when everybody else is being
remembered by their friends. I can't forget her face tonight; it
actually haunts me. Girls, how would you feel if you hadn't anyone
belonging to you, and if nobody thought about you at Christmas?"

"Ow!" said Olive, as if the mere idea made her shiver.

A little silence followed. To tell the truth, none of them liked Miss
Allen. They knew that she did not like them either, but considered
them frivolous and pert, and complained when they made a racket.

"The skeleton at the feast," Jean called her, and certainly the
presence of the pale, silent, discontented-looking woman at the No. 16
table did not tend to heighten its festivity.

Presently Jean said with a dramatic flourish, "Girls, I have an
inspiration--a Christmas inspiration!"

"What is it?" cried four voices.

"Just this. Let us give Miss Allen a Christmas surprise. She has not
received a single present and I'm sure she feels lonely. Just think
how we would feel if we were in her place."

"That is true," said Olive thoughtfully. "Do you know, girls, this
evening I went to her room with a message from Mrs. Pickrell, and I do
believe she had been crying. Her room looked dreadfully bare and
cheerless, too. I think she is very poor. What are we to do, Jean?"

"Let us each give her something nice. We can put the things just
outside of her door so that she will see them whenever she opens it.
I'll give her some of Fred's roses too, and I'll write a Christmassy
letter in my very best style to go with them," said Jean, warming up
to her ideas as she talked.

The other girls caught her spirit and entered into the plan with
en