A CHRISTMAS GIRL.

Auckland Star, Volume XXII, Issue 305, 24 December 1891, Page 5 (Supplement)

A CHRISTMAS GIRL.

Bt Caroline At water Mason,

Author of 'A Daughter of The Dune, ,

•Mrs Rossiter Lamar,' etc., etc

•Here I am at last!'

The speaker was a tall, slighfc -girl with fair hair and a charming face, who had at the moment she spoke, rushed breathlessly into a dull upper room of a tenement) bouse. Soated ab a sewing-machine by the window was a woman a few years older, with a serious face, who yob looked up with a smile as shereburnerJ : 'I should think " at last !" Where have you been all the morning, Lite?' 'Boen?' cried the other, turning her eye.?, which were fairly blazing with fun and excitement, up to the ceiling to denote speechless rapture, and effecting a miraculous whirl upon one toe. ' Been ? How can you ask ? There 13 but one absolutely souleatisfying spot in this benighted burg !' 'And that is—?' 'Why the iive and ten-cenb store of course, Emily Loraine. , • Lite !' i 'Truly,' the girl wenfa on, the corners of her pretty mouth full of mischief, ' there is nob, so far as heard from, an aspiration of my soul which is nob met and satisfied, there.' 'Eliza Gilbert, you are too ridiculous,' laughed her sister. 1 Please don'b call this good little girl Eliza. It scares her. And, cara mice, you do nob understand. You figure to yourself, T and T— Trash and Trumpery, Trumpery and Trash. Nothing of the sorb ! This is on a higher plane than any five and ten-cent store which has ever presented its3lf to your sordid imagination— yes, my love, sordid. Do you hear ?' and lite turned a look of impressive severity npon Mrs Loraine, who was now stitching busily away upon a red flannel shirt. '.Books? Geioiss ! Shakspcre is now reduced to five cent 3. The masterpieces of all the ages are gathered together. They dc look a little ashamed of their clothes, I admit. Music? Handel, Haydn, Wagner —you can have them all for a mere song ! Is" it art you want? There it is; any amount of it—high, too—that is the only thing that was high. Ten cents will pub you in possession of the highest forms. But I see you return to that odious red shirb. My eloquence is wasted on you ; but perhaps if I should tell you of the gridirons and blackingt-brushes and tin pans, you would respond. There are plenty of them. Indeed,' there i 3 everything known to the human,family.' • Bub how in the world did you happen to go to such a place ? I thought you started for the post-office and no other where.' Lite had taken oS the simple little black hat she wore, and laid aside her jacket, and bow came and sat by the sewing-machine, asking as she did so — ' Where is Joey ?' ' lie is taking his nap, to be sure. Look at ' ! n clock. Ib is almost the plebian dinBhi mr.' k i was going to say, if he were out of hn:;>-.;ig, that we can have the jolliest time Clii idtmasing for Joey in this same bazaar. Why, truly, Emily, there are lovely toys there for only five cents apiece, and he shall have hia darling stocking full. It will hardly count at all, you know.' Mrs Loraine looked a little grave. ' I wish it wouldn't, dear ; bub you know even five cents does count now—' • Fiddlesticks ! Stop being sober. "Won'b have it, not a bib of it! Emily, my dear, I have a statement of some slight importance to make to you. Look at me for a moment !' ' I am looking ; you are awfully pretty. I never saw so many fireworks in your eyes. Is bhab what you wanb me to see ?' • Desist! This is no time for insipid flattery. She whom you now see before you is—presumptively—a pampered worldling, a bloated bondholder, a millionaire! She is already rolling—in imagination— in gold.' • Yes, bub she has rolled in imagination a good many times before.' 'Oh Emily, how stupid you are! Ido nob roll in imagination ; nobody does. Some people are so dense;' and Lite pub her head on one side with a small pensive eigh. ' Go on with your story, love,' said her eister, pabronisingly. ' Wei!, to begin with, you asked me how I happened to go to the new bazaar. It was in this wise : the idea seized me as I left the post office that 1 would give myself up to a morning of wild dissipation ; see life, as ib Avere !' ' Oh, Lite, and you went to the five-cent etore ! This is excruciatingly funny,' and Mrs Loraine laughed merrily. ' You must not interrupt me. Here we have come bo the city to live, and what do we know of its great bhrobbing heart, its teeming millions—?' ' Seventy-five thousand, to ba exact.' •It 3 tower 3, its palaces, its gilded—?' ' Luxury."^ ' Thanks.nhat is what I was after. "My love she lives in a two-pair back." These two rooms, the courtyard below, tho streets from here to the posb office and the church —are they nob all wo can be said to know of Hamilton?' 'I made up my mind, Emily, to have the be3btime I could. To play I was rich and handsome and everybody loved me, and go aboub and see things as if I had nothing else to do. I saw otherpeople going into this bazaar, so 1 went there too. Then I went to the Waldo Library and walked about with the air of a bibliomaniac. lam sure I impressod tbo librarians. Then I strolled in the park a little while, and looked at the lovely ladies in their carriages, and "played " I had left mine jusb outside, you know, and all that. , 'You must have had a charming time, and rolled, as you said, in imagination.' 'If you don't behave, I shall tell Joey my •wonderful secret, aad we'll never tell you at all until we are ready to present you wibh a sealskin sacque. , 'Go on, "Light- 0' Life. , " 4 Then, last of all, I dropped in Dudley's to see the water-colour;?. Free collection, madam, do not alarm yourself- ' "Although she wan on pleasure bent, She bad a frugal uund !" So I strolled aboub among the lovely brie-d-brao for awhile ; some things were even finer than at the bazaar.' 'Lite !' 'They were, really, bub nob so adaptable—don'b say cheap, ib is such an unimaginative word. Then on among the pictures. Of course, Emily, I had the Blight advantage hero of knowing where to admire, a point which is desirable for several reasons, objective and subjective. Thore was one woman there who Bpenb half-an-hour admiring the wrong thing. I telb sorry for her when she found ib out, she was so mortified. ' How did she find ib out?' ' When they told her the price, of course. There is one standard that is infallible ! Now listen : It so happened that Mr Dudley himself was there ••■■' 'How do you know it was Mv Dudley?' matter how. He paw me admiring a lovely bib of an English moor — just a grey ■ brown corner up against an autumn sky—and he came up and began talking with me, and when he found I appreciated such pictures, lie took me from one to another, and tinaHv, my dear, he opened a great portfolio of the choicest thins , . 1 * he had, things which they do not Vtinw. Mrs

♦ Desiab! This is no time for insipid flattery. She whom you now see before you is—presumptively—a pampered worldling, a bloated bondholder, a millionaire! She is already rolling—in imagination— in gold.' • Yes, bub she has rolled in imagination a good many times before.' 'Oh Emily, how stupid you are! Ido nob roll in imagination ; nobody does. Some people are so dense;' and Lite put; her head on ono side with a small pensive eigh

'Go on with your story, love,' said nor eister, patronisingly. 4 Wei!, to begin with, you asked me how I happened to go to the new bazaar. It was in this wise : the idea seized me as I left the post; office that 1 would give myself up to a morning of wild dissipation ; sea life, as ifc Avere !' ' Oh, Lite, and you went to the five-cent etore ! This is excruciatingly funny,' and Mrs Loraine laughed merrily. ' You must not interrupt me. Here we have come to the city to live, and whab do we know of its great throbbing heart, its teeming millions—?' ' Seventy-five thousand, to ba exact.' 'It 3 towers, its palaces, its gilded—?' ' Luxury."^ ' Thanks.nhat is wha«i I was after. "My lpve she lives in a two-pair back." These two rooms, the courtyard below, tho streets from here to the post office and the church —are they nob all wo can be said to know of Hamilton ?'

Loraine, please understand, to everybody, and let me see them all and talked in such a pleasant way about them. Oh, I did have a beautiful time !' 4 1 am giad, dear.' 'Don't be gladdest glad yet, for "still there's more to follow.' " ' What, more than this !' 4 Ay, more! You are a wise woman, Emily, bub I've done one thing you didn't know aboub. You remember that day we passed the University Chapel, and I was so impressed with the shape of the old tower and that end of bhe Quadrangle ?' 'Yes.' ' Well, 1 had a bright thought; bub you know i have had so many that we have gob a Hlbla bit tired of them, and so I kept this bo mysolf. Bub the next day I worked oub in water-colour, on a square of Whatman board, the chapel tower and a glimpse of bhe old buildings of bhe Quadrangle ; put an EiOel-red sunset behind it to make ib sell, and edges of snow to mane it look Christmaa-y. Across the bottom I lettered, in very quaint Gothic letters, •• Souvenir of Old South Centre," and a line of a carol.' 'It must have been lovely. , 'It was really a clever sketch for me, and only took a few hours. Now, be ib known unto you, most excellent Emily, this same Christmas card was peacefully lying in my litt'.o black bag through all the morning's wanderings. Not, I may say, without a purpose. In facb, ray full intent from the first had- been to delude Mr Dudley into selling my card for me, and I had put off going there as long as 1 could because I do hate to talk aboub my work and feel like an agent and all that. Bub when I paw that the moment had arrived, I remarked, modestly, that I worked in water-colours a little myself. Mr Dudley had fancied so, which was pleasing. Then I further admitted, not without reluctance, that I happened to have a very slight sketch with me, and with that I drew oub my card and rushed into the midst of things, telling him how much I wanted to sell it and get orders for more, and, in fact, the whole story.' ' Did you tell him that your sister made shirts for a living ?' 4 No, and I didn't tell him bhab Joey had croup the other night. There were, in fact, several points in the family history which I omitted. But ho took my sketch, and regarded ib with the eye of a connoisseur, while my poor little heart almost burst its black alpaca bounds. Finally he laid ib down, took off bis eyeglass, pulled a piece of chamois-skin out of his pocket and wiped it tenderly, while I, withal, went down into the depths ; and bhen, with an odd little snuff he has, he remarked : '"How many of these can you do in a week ? ■ They will sell, like wild-tire." Now, why wild-fire should sell rapidiy is noo for you nor any other carping critic to ask. No matter for anything bub the blessed fact. I am to do ib by the dozen, for every student who sees ib will wanb it, Mr Dudley says, and he pay 3me a dollar, Emily Loraine, for every one !' At this point Lite held out in her small pink palm, with an air of exultation, a bright silver dollar. ' Talk aboub one being able to afford fivecenb. presents for your angel child J What do you think now ?'

'You are an angel child yourself,' Bald Mrs Loraine, and began to cry. ' Nicht wahri And oh, what do you think ? Most wonderful of all—l saw Strong of '9.1 !' ' Who ia Strong of '91, pray ?' 'Emily! Not know who Strong '91 is after living six months in Hamilton ! I should be ashamed to argue myself so unknown as that. Nob know Sbrong—pride of tho University, stroke oar in tho crew, the man who leads the prayer-meetings and tho athletics too ! Why, he is aperfect paragon —a prodigy—all muscle, mind and morals. You must have heard of him.' ' I believe now bhab I have seen his name. I had forgotten.' ' Well I have seen him.' ' This is a red-lecter day, isn't it? Does he look very different from other students ? 'No, I experienced a revulsion of feeling when Mr Dudley, indicating this young man, whispered in an almost awe-struck tone—" Sbrong '91 !" I had noticed him looking at bhe pictures. One of these very square students, you know—some of them aro so—with a kind of nibbled moustache and freckles.' 'How uninteresbing.' ' Ho had a good face, though, and I thought there was a certain manliness about him ; still 1 was disappointed. I had supposed Strong '91 would be a tall, imposing creature, " wibh an eye that takes bhe breath," and all that kind of thing.' " I am sorry to call you down to ordinary things, Lite, bub if yon would set the table—' Upon thie Lite sprang from her seat and with swift movements went aboub her work, humming 'Robin Adair,' and looking so joyous thab the room itself seemed to grow bright. Mr 3 Loraine and her sister to the great army of women who are carrying on a struggle to make a living against heavy odds. By birth and education they belonged among better surroundings than they could now command. They had come to Hamilton with the hope _ o. larger opportunities than their native place could afford. Mrs Loraine after seeking in vain for music scholars had betaken herself to making shirts, while her young eiftter conducted their small housekeeping operations, and ab the same time tried to burn a very marked talent in painting to account, thus far unsuccessfully.^ Mrs Loraine was a widow; her little Joey, a three-year-old boy, was the pride and the joy of bhe two women. Although in all ibs externals their life was a dull round of small duties and petty anxieties, varied by many disappointments, a spirit of bright hopefulness and undaunted courage never left them. Their simple meals _ were alvyavg sesvaonefi by Jiite'p gray., piquant

talk ; and the downfall of each 'new castle was made a source of merriment instead of bitterness. Mrs Loraine always said that the reason for her sister's overflowing fountain of spirits lay in bhe facb that she was nob only a Sunday child, bub also a Christmas child. She was nob only l blithe and bonny, and good and gay,' but she was furthermore so sweethearted, so full of helpfulness toward all the world where she touched it, that nothing— so Mrs Loraine eaid—but the spirit of Christmas itself falling upon her, could account for ib; and so she was fond of calling her. the ' Christmas girl.' Certain it was that with each approach of Christmasbide and her own birthday, Lite's whole nature seemed stimulated to fresh activity, and to new impulses of love and service for bhose aboub her. A fortnight after Lite's first interview with Mr Dudley, during which she had painted perpetual chapel towers, as she said herself, for this ' dear, delightful public,' and had earned a corresponding number of dollars, we find bhe sisters again in their small apartment. Mrs Loraine was using the fast vanishing daylight in cutting oub work, standing a« a table before the window, when there came a knock ab the door. Lite was in the kitchen preparing tea ; Joey, cherubic, with, his fair, curling hair, big brown eyes and white pinafore, opsned the door, his mother following him. A stranger, a young man with tho general aspect/ of a student, bowed respectfully, and handing her his card asked if Miss Gilbert lived there, and if she were ab home. Having received bhe calier with the quieb dignity which belonged bo her, Mrs Loraine left him to the polite attentions of Joey while she went to bho kitchen to summon Lite. ' What, a caller wibh a card ?' whispered the girl, ' How surprising ! For me, did you .-ay? Who can ib be? Emily—it is Strong of '91'—and with this Lite fainted in pantomime ; but, instantaneously recovering, went into bhe next room and received her caller with a business-like air which greatly amazed her sisber. She had guessed that he had come to order some of her work, -as she knew ho frequented Mr Dudley's picture store. He made known his errand at once with no unnecessary ceremony;.but Mrs Loraine, looking on from her place ab bhe bable, caught the sudden sui-priso in his face when Lite meb him ; naturally, thought the sister, he was not expecting anything so lovely, and she noted the girl's grace and charm of manner with new pride. Mr Strong wanted to know if Miss Gilbert would enlarge the motif of her very pretty Christmas card, making a picture of it taking tn a little more of the Old South Centre, and painting it by moonlight instead of sunset lij^hb. 'Let mo think,' said Lite, considering. ' You want it in three days ?' 'Yes,' replied the young man, 'it is only a, week now before Christmas, you sea, and it is to be sent a long distance. I want to havo a certain window in Old South in the picture for an especial reason. My class mate, Dntton, died within the year. He was a fine fellow, an only son—it was a very sad affair. His mother is heart-broken, you know, and all that, and I wanb bo send her this little sketch, with

Dufifcon's window in sight. Ho was uncommonly fond of the walk about the Quadrangle and Chapel by moonlight, and I think she would like to have the thing on that account. , ' Oh, I see, , said Lite, gently. ' I wish I could do it.' Her manner was less businesslike now. 'Bub how can I manage bhe moonlight? 1 have never scon tho Chapel ab night.' ' Couldn'b you guess aboub how ib would look V Lite shook her head wibh decision. 'The shadows, you know, mu.«b be done properly. I would not; like to make it up artificially. I wonder if there is a moon now.' ' Yes, it is almost full,' returned Strong, eagerly. 'I wish you could see it to-night, ib is going to be fine.' There was a momentary pause, and then he added— 'But of course you can't stand out on bha side-walk to sketch ib.' ' I did the other from memory,' said Libe, ' but this is so different, I should wanb to be perfectly accurate.' ' Certainly, that is just what I am thinking about.' He hesitated, and then, with an extraordinary frank and winning smile, exclaimed— ' I think I havo a brilliant idea ! Ab least I will submit ib to you. My aunt, Mrs Ford, lives in that oldfashioned brown house diagonally across from the Chapel ; perhaps you have noticed ib—sbrangors are apb to. Early Colonial, you know, and all that sort of thing. Now how would ib do for you to let me take you there this evening—let me see, tho moon must rise aboub seven b'clock —and let you make the sketch from her parlour windows? You could paint ab your leisure, and be warm and comfortable while you were doing ib.' Having referred this proposition to her sister, who approved it, Lite consented to accompany Mr Strong to the house of his aunt ab half-past seven o'clock bhat evening. Mr Sbrong bhen, wibh a slighb timidity, inquired what her price for her picturo would be. Lite boldly replied five dollars, and he departed leaving the girl in a whirl of excitement, with flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes. 'To think of ib, Emily,' she cried, ' such a coruscation of splendour—to earn five dollars all at once, to do a lovely thing for that poor mother, and then to " behold grandeur " in a University avenue mansion, escorted by Sbrong the magnificent, Strong c/er einzige—" the lamb ab home !"' ' " The lion in the chase !" Ib ia too much. What can Ido to perpetuate bhe emotions of this hour ?' ' I would suggest that you pub the tea-kettle on, and lefa it and your rapture boil in unison.'

• Boiled rapture !' murmured Lite, with an air of infinite contempt, and vanished through the kitchen door. No'girl wbo reads this story will be surprised to hear thab Lite ppenfc an unprocedentedly long titno upon her toilet after tea; and lam confident that every girl who reads it will be glad to be assured that although her black cashmere dress was neither modish nor handsome, and her hat and jacket were simple and inexpensive, Lite looked so extremely pretty that the valiant heart of Strong '91 smote against his ribs when he met her at her door that evening. If she had been a princese instead of a poor working , girl he could not have escorted her to the house of his aunt with more chivalrous and deferential attention. ' They were all so kind to me,' so Lite told her sister, as she laid her colour box and portfolio down and threw herself into the rocking-chair upon her return. 'They did not stand off and regard me with the cold, aristocratic stare with which I am familiar, bub left) mo to myself to do my work after they had greeted me with the sweetest cordiality. Mra Ford is a picture—white hair, dark eyes, and such a gracious smile. Miss Ford, lam confident, was appointed a committee on me (perhaps she was seh-appointed), for she would occasionally leave the others—there were a number of young people there in the music room—and come over to my window.' • What did Mr Strong do ?' ' Oh, he hovered. , • Did you succeed with your sketch 1 I suppose it i« only laid in now.' ' That is all, but I think it will bo good. The tower way so fine against a clear sky, with ono wonderful cloud, the spirit of the place seemed quiie different at night. I like to Uo ie, Emily, for that poor fellow's mother. I wish it did not havo to bo paid for. I wish I could do things for people. J wish I could make somebody happy with juefc ono srnilo, as Mra Ford did me. , 1 But why do you wanb to be so economical, little sister? Your smiles are what Joey and I live on—food and fire and sunshine itself, Light o' Life—but we don't wanb to be reduced to one. Do we, Joey ?' Upon which Lite snatched her small nephew up and hugged him close, that Emily might nob see the totally unreasonable and absolutely indefensible tear diat was making rapid progress to the tips of her eye-lashes. ***** The day before Christmas came. During the week Lite Gilbert had finished the painting and taken it, as Mi Strong bad directed her, to Mr Dudley's store to bo framed. Mr Dudley had paid her five dollars, which he said Mr Strong had left with him, and six more which he owed her. Lite wished that she migrhb have known whether Mr Strong had liked the picture, but. nothing was said on that point. 1 Five dollars must go for renb,' said Lite, ' and two for'stupid old flannels; but the othor four shall bo spent for Christmas, every blessed cent of it—if we live on beans a month to pay for ib, as we are likely to do, for I can'o go on painting Christmas cards any longer, that is morally certain. I wonder what we shall do next. .

Aocordingly, thab afternoon she pub away her painting materials ; Mrs Loraine olosed her machine ; Joey abandoned the mangy cotton flannel rabbit and rabbling bin goab wibh which his time was chietly occupied, and the three started from the tall,'faded block in the narrow street, to make hoiiday and prepare to keep Christmas.

' First to tho market,' commanded Lite, who directed the line of march ; ' wo must secure the turkey and cranberry sauce before we subject ourselves go the temptations of the great city, or who_ knows but we mighb ignominiously and with a paltry chicken, without sauce ?' ' Wo don'b any of us like cranberry sauce, to be sure,' remarked Mrs Loraine, quickly ; ' bub bhen it is orthodox to havo it, and let ua be orthodox or die.'

' Moet likely Mrs Hannibal likes ib, anyway,' returned Lite. Mrs Hannibal was tho lame and somewhat unpleasant old lady who, being as Lito pub ib, higher up in tho world than they—that is, having .1 fourth storey room above them—and being quite alone, had been invited to Christmas dinner.

They make a merry round, our easily pleased trio, of the crowded brilliant shops, enjoying the fine things they looked at, and the simple things they purchased with equal enthusiasm. or great mystery intervened, when Mrs Loraine suddenly vanished, and Lite discreetly did not try to find her, knowing only too well that she was at a glove counter, looking critically ab small black gloves with more buttons than she had any business to pay for, thought Lite. Bub then who cares ? Isn'fc it Christmas? And isn'b ib bliss bo be extravagant once in tho year? Then, on bhe other hand, Lite would be missing, having appointed a place of meeting farther up the street. Of course her sister did nob see her tripping into a book store, and did not dream, would nob have been seen dreaming, that she was asking for a copy of Kate Lanborn's ' Year of Sunshine,' Which they had both coveted so long. As for Joey, he was the victim of more delusions, was more circumvented, deceived, misguided and talked about behind his back that afternoon than any boy of his inches in Hamilton.

Home they came at last, their arms full, their purses empty; tired and cold and merry. And merry they were all through supper, which did nob take long, being a fast before a feast • and Joey was pub bo bed to the music of' A Night Before Christmas,' properly intoned by his devoted aunt. The small black stocking was picked up from the floor and brought out into the sit-ting-room to be filled by the same young person, and ib was only bhen, and nob bill bhen, thab bhe cheer and the courage failed. For Mrs Loraino sab by the table, unfold-

ing small paper parcels, with tears dropping fast on Joey's things. They had to come at last. Last Christinas Evo the boy's father had brought home the mysterious bundles, and together they had filled the tiny stocking, and had stood by the bed afterwards, looking at tho curly head and the precious little face and had whispered to each other —' He is ours.' ' You must cry, darling,' Lite said : 'it would be worse not to. I think maybe Fred knows we are trying to do our best, don't you? And God does. And we love our boy so that he will have his full share of love—he can never bo poor in that way, even if Fred is not here.' Then they cried together awhile, not bitterly, not in rebellion or discouragement but with a grief so sacred and pure thab ib broughb God very near. An hour laber a danbily-gloved and aristocratic hand knocked upon the grey-green panels of the sisters' outer door. That it was daintily-gloved and aristocratic is of small moment, but that ib was a womanly and a gracious hand is important. It was Miss Ford's hand. She had come to invite Miss Gilbert, and also Miss Gilberc's sister and the little boy—she knew all aboub them, it seemed —to spend Christmas evening at her house. 'We are to have some very simple charades and tableaux, , she explained, * almost entirely impromptu ; and we wanb Miss Gilbert to help us. Her artistic taste will be the thing we especially need, and I have fixed upon her to take bhe part of Cinderella. Bub I musb tell you how delighted we all are at tho house wi'h your little water-colour for poor Mrs Dutton. Ib is simply exquisite ! So many have seen jti and are eager to know who painted it. I never saw Tom—my cousin, you know— so pleased with anything. I assure you, Mips Gilbert, that if you would like bo take orders you will be kept busy for some time to come. Oh, and would you give lessons ? I want my niece to begin this winter, and I havo not seen anyone's water-colour work that I like as well as yours.' Lite expressed her willingness to give lessons, and her various emotions of gratitude and pleasure, in terms as adequate as a certain choking sensation in her throat would permit. Miss Ford having added a few tender and tactful words, for she felt bhe sorrow of the little scene into which eho had entered, bade them good-night and went on her way to make some other people happy. That was her way of keeping Christmas Eve. No more tears fell upon Joay's stocking. Eager hones and plans had sprung suddenly into life, and sorrow made room ior them as she could afford to do, her place being her own for ever. The door against which Lite had been beating so long with impotent hands had swung wide at last, or so it eeemed that night, and a fair field stretched before her. For it wa3 only a chance to work that the girl wanted, to do what she was capable of doing, arid earn her labour's worth. The next day was a glorious one for Joey, for whom tho possibilities of tho fivo-and-ton-cent store had been thoroughly tested. With whips and trumpots galore, and three tin horses —falsely co called, to be sure, bub that made no difference—what more could a small boy ask ? To soe Joey revelling in this wise, and to see Mrs Hannibal devour turkey and cranberry eauce were sources of joy bo Mrs Loraine and Libe, pure and undefiled ; bub bhe crown of bhe day was> the evening at Mrs Ford's. Ib was nob exactly a brilliant company which was gabhered there, in bho socieby sense. There was a noticeable absence of diamonds and point lace, and other manifestations of magnificence, bub there were many interesting-looking people, and no absence of brain or culture. Mrs Ford's companies were the wonder of all who knew her, She had an instinct for bringing people together who would be made happy by meeting one another ; a faculty for finding out tired and discouraged men and women who had distinctly reached the point of needing social enlivenment. On this particular Christmas night something like this was the make-up of the company. It was not an occasion of ' tho lame, the halt, and the blind,' although Miss Ford was 'at homo 'to these also. There was good music, and Christmas games, and afterwards the charades and tableaux of which Miss Ford had epoken. Mr Strong and half a dozen other '91 fellows, with as many bright girls, had the?e in charge, and Lite Gilbarb was promptly drawn into the inner circle. It was many months since the girl had had such a frolic. Of course it did her good to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet, the pure nonsense, tho gay laughter and fun which went on continuously behind the scenes, and of which she and Strong soon became the soul and centre. By common consent she took the part of Cinderolla in bhe tableau which closed that charade. The scene chosen was bhab in which the Prince fite bhe slipper on Cinderella's foob. There wero bhe Haughty Sisters, with elevated noses ; there was the fair-haired Ash-maiden, in a ragged calico dress, which was yet, somehow, vastly becoming, sitting on a three-legged slool ; and there was Strong '91, gorgeous to sco in a plumed hat and hie cousin's plush wrap, kneeling beforo her holding up a yellow glaes slipper, and trying his best nob to look like a clerk in a shoo stove. Tho scone was greeted with much applause, and an outburst of merry laughing was caused by Joey, who called reprovingly from his mother's lap— ' Aunb Lite, fwy don' '00 mend 'oo dess ?' Upon this the curtains were rushed furiously together, leaving a hiatus of several feeb at the side, and being pulled apart again, the Prince was discovered loading Cinderella gallantly forwsird by the iuind, all regardless of the deficiencies in his costurno, which had been designed only for a side view. ' How do you dare, Mrs Ford,' asked a dowager friend who sat beside that lady, ' bo introduce your nephew to such a charmingly pretty girl? I should think he would find her irresistible.' ' And what if he does, my dear? , was bhe reply. 'She is as good, I fully believe, as she is pretty. What can the boy do better than to fall in love with such a girl ?' And strangely enough, this was precisely the conclusion reached that evening by Sbrong of '91. And for Lite herself, we can only say that the new, strange happiness in her young hesirb was the latest and best gift which Christmas Day had brought to ' A Christmas Girl.'