ly; "don't that cotton wool look just like bits
of fur, Ben?"

"Yes," said Ben, "and when the flour's shaken over me it'll be Santa
himself."

"We've got to put back the hair into mamsie's cushion the first thing
to-morrow," whispered Polly anxiously, "and we mustn't forget it,
Bensie."

"I want to keep the wig awfully," said Ben. "You did make that just
magnificent, Polly!"

"If you could see yourself," giggled Polly; "did you put it in the straw
bed? and are you sure you pulled the ticking over it smooth?"

"Yes, sir," replied Ben, "sure's my name's Ben Pepper! if you'll only
keep them from seeing me when I'm in it till we're ready--that's all I
ask."

"Well," said Polly a little relieved, "but I hope Joe won't look."

"Come on! they're a-comin'!" whispered Ben; "quick!"

"Polly!" rang a voice dangerously near; so near that Polly, speeding
over the stairs to intercept it, nearly fell on her nose.

"Where you been?" asked one.

"Let's have a concert," put in Ben; Polly was so out of breath that she
couldn't speak. "Come, now, each take a whistle, and we'll march round
and round and see which can make the biggest noise."

In the rattle and laughter which this procession made all mystery was
forgotten, and the two conspirators began to breathe freer.

Five o'clock! The small ones of the Pepper flock, being pretty well
tired out with noise and excitement, all gathered around Polly and Ben,
and clamored for a story.

"Do, Polly, do," begged Joel. "It's Christmas, and 'twon't come again
for a year."

"I can't," said Polly, in such a twitter that she could hardly stand
still, and for the first time in her life refusing, "I can't think of a
thing."

"I will then," said Ben; "we must do something," he whispered to Polly.

"Tell it good," said Joel, settling himself.

So for an hour the small tyrants kept their entertainers well employed.

"Isn't it growing awful dark?" said Davie, rousing himself at last, as
Ben paused to take breath.

Polly pinched Ben.

"Mammy's a-goin' to let us know," he whispered in reply. "We must keep
on a little longer."

"Don't stop," said Joel, lifting his head where he sat on the floor.
"What you whisperin' for, Polly?"

"I'm not," said Polly, glad to think she hadn't spoken.

"Well, do go on, Ben," said Joel, lying down again.

"Polly'll have to finish it," said Ben; "I've got to go upstairs now."

So Polly launched out into such an extravagant story that they all,