uiet, for the girls slept easily. Then Mary crept into her little
cot with the doll in her arms. She loved Miranda so much that she would
never part with her, no indeed; not even though she now knew where Miranda
belonged. 87 Overlook Terrace! The figures danced before her eyes
maliciously. She wished she could forget them. And the thought of Angelina
Terry kept coming to her. Poor Angelina!

"She ain't 'poor Angelina,'" argued Mary to herself. "She's _rich_
Angelina. Doesn't she live in a big house in the swell part of the city? I
s'pose she has hundreds of dolls, much handsomer than Miranda, and lots of
other toys. I guess she won't miss this one queer old doll. I guess she'd
let me keep it if she knew I hadn't any of my own. I guess it ought to be
my doll. Anyway, I'm going to keep her. I don't believe Angelina loves
Miranda so much as I do."

She laid her cheek against the doll's cold waxen one and presently fell
asleep.

But she slept uneasily. In the middle of the night she awoke and lay for
hours tossing and unhappy in the stuffy little room. The clock struck one,
two, three. At last she gave a great sigh, and cuddling Miranda in her arms
turned over, with peace in her heart.

"I will play you are mine, my very own dollie, for just this one night,"
she whispered in Miranda's ear. "To-morrow will be Christmas Day, and I
will take you back to your little mother, Angelina Terry. I can't do a mean
thing at Christmas time,--not even for you, dear Miranda."

Thereupon she fell into a peaceful sleep.

CHAPTER XII

THE ANGEL AGAIN

"Will she bring it back?" asked Miss Terry eagerly, when once more she
found herself under the gaze of the Christmas Angel. He nodded brightly.

"To-morrow morning you will see," he said. "It will prove that all I have
shown you is really true."

"A pretty child," said Miss Terry musingly. "A very nice child indeed. I
believe she looks very much as I used to be myself."

"You see, she is not a thief, after all; not _yet_," said the Angel. "What
a pity that she must live in that sad home, with such terrible people! A
sensitive child like her, craving sympathy and affection,--what chance has
she for happiness? What would you yourself have been in surroundings like
hers?"

"Yes, she is very like what I was. Of course I shall let her keep the
doll."

Miss Terry hesitated. The Angel looked at her steadily and his glance
seemed to read her half-formed thoughts.

"Surely," h