he tree they have at the Home."

"Or have them hang up stockings," suggested Louise Johnson. "Just
imagine forty long black stockings strung around those parlour walls.
Wouldn't it be a sight?" she giggled.

"Nancy Rextrew wouldn't have her stocking hung on any parlour wall. It
would be in her own room or nowhere," put in Lena.

"Why not get some of those red Christmas stockings from the five cent
store, and fill one for each old lady?" Mary Hastings proposed. "We
could go late, after they'd all gone to their rooms, and hang the
stockings, full, on their doorknobs."

"Or get the superintendent to hang them early in the morning," was
Laura's suggestion.

"Yes, we can get the stockings and the 'fillings,'" Mary Hastings went
on, "and have all sent to the superintendent's room. Then we can go
there and fill them. It won't take long if we all go."

"And not have any tree for them?" Myra asked in a disappointed tone.

"O, they always have a tree with candles and trimmings--the Board ladies
furnish that," Frances explained.

The girls lingered late that night talking over Christmas plans. The air
was heavy with secrets, there were whispered conferences in corners, and
somebody was always drawing Laura aside to ask advice or help. Only
Elizabeth had no part in these mysterious whisperings. She had blossomed
into happy friendliness with all the girls now that she came regularly
to the meetings, but the old sad silence crept over her again in these
December days. It was Olga who guessed her trouble and went with it to
Sadie, drawing her away from a group of girls who were busy over crochet
work.

"Look at Elizabeth," she began.

Sadie stared at her sister sitting apart from the others, listlessly
gazing into the fire. "Well, what of her? What's eating her?" Sadie
demanded in her most aggravating manner.

Olga frowned. Sadie's slang was a trial to her.

"Elizabeth says she is not coming to the Christmas tree here."

"Well, she don't have to, if she don't want to," Sadie retorted, but she
cast an uneasy glance at the silent figure by the fire.

"She does want to, Sadie Page--you know she does."

"Well, then--what's the answer?" demanded Sadie.

"Would _you_ come if you couldn't give a single thing to any one?" Olga
asked quietly.

"Why don't she make things then--same's I do?" Sadie's tone was sullen
now.

"You know why. Your mother gives you a little money----"

"Mighty little," Sadie interrupted. "I'm goi