great trial, still
resolute despite her partial defeat, she tore the letter and cast it
on the fire. "There!" she cried, "would to God I loved him less." And
then, with strange firmness, she took up a book, and sternly set
herself to comprehend what she read.

The hours went by and at last she rose wearily, put out one candle,
raked ashes over the embers, and taking the other light, went slowly
up to bed. She paused a moment at the nursery door where she heard
voices. "What! awake still?"

"We was only talking about Khwis," said the small boy. "We won't any
more, will we, Alice? She thinks he won't come, but I think he will
come because we are both so good all to-day."

"No, no, he will not come this Christmas, my darlings. Go to sleep. Go
to sleep," and with too full a heart she turned away.

But the usual tranquil slumber of childhood was not theirs. The
immense fact that they were soon to leave their home troubled the
imaginative little man. Then, too, a great wind began to sweep over
the hills and to shake the snow-laden pines. On its way, it carried
anew from the ice of the river wild sounds of disturbance and at last,
in the mid hours of night, an avalanche of snow slid from the roof.
Hugh sat up; he realized well enough what had happened. But presently
the quick ear of childhood was aware of other, and less familiar
sounds. Was it Kris Kringle? Oh! if he could only see him once! He
touched the sister asleep in her bed near by, and at last shook her
gently.

"What is it, Hugh?" she said.

"I hear Khwis. I know it is Khwis!"

"O Hugh! I hear too, but it might be a robber."

"No, nevah on Chwistmas Eve. It couldn't be a wobber. It is Khwis. I
mean to go and see. I hear him outside. You know, Alice, there is
nevah, nevah any wickedness on Chwistmas Eve."

"But if it is a robber he might take you away."

"Oh! wobbers steal girls, but they nevah, nevah steal boys, and you
needn't go."

"But are you sure? Oh! do listen," she added. Both heard the creaking
noise of footsteps in the dry snow.

[Illustration: "MR. KHWIS KWINGLE, ARE YOU THERE? OR IS YOU A
WOBBER?"]

"I will look--I must look," cried Hugh, slipping from his bed. In a
moment he had raised the sash and was looking out into the night.
The sounds he had heard ceased. He could see no one. "He has gone,
Alice." Then he cried, "Mr. Khwis Kwingle, are you there? or is you a
wobber?" As he spoke a cloaked man came from behind a great pine and
stoo