ooking! She shivered and hugged Honey-Sweet close.

"I'm terrible late," said Martha, bustling in and hurrying to draw the
curtains and light the gas. "We had to finish putting up the greens. And
Master Dunlop did bother so. Nothing would do but he must 'help.'
'Help,' I say! He's one of them chillen that no matter where you turn
he's in the way. You shall have tea now, Miss Anne. I know you're
starving. And my blessed baby's fast asleep on the floor! Why, Miss
Anne! You been crying! What's the matter, dear? Did that Dunlop--"

"Nobody. Nothing," said Anne, turning her reddened eyes from the light.
"Perhaps my eyes are sore. Maybe the snow hurts them."

"Oh, ho! You just ought 'a' been with me," said Dunlop, strutting in. "I
hanged a wreath in the parlor window. I did it all to myself. Martha she
just held it straight and mother tied the string. Martha said I
bothered. Martha don't know. Mother says I'm her little man.--Come
along, you old Santa Claus! Hurry! Or I'll come up that chimney and take
all your toys and your reindeers, too," he shouted up the chimney.

"Don't, 'Lop," remonstrated Arthur who was sleepily rubbing his eyes and
opening his mouth, bird-like, for spoonfuls of bread and milk. "Don't
talk that way. It's ugly. And Santa C'aus'll get mad and not come. Or
he'll bring you switches."

"Mother won't let him," blustered Dunlop. "Mother says she told him to
bring me a heap of things--a gun and a 'spress wagon and a engine that
runs on a track and lots more things.--Say, Anne, is there really truly
a sure-'nough Santa Claus? George Bryant says there isn't not. Tell me,
Anne. Does Santa Claus really come down the chimney?"

"You stay awake and see," advised Anne.

"I'm going to. I'm not going to shut--my--eyes--all--night--long," he
said emphatically.

"Marfa, don't put on any more coal," begged Arthur. "I so fwead Santa
C'aus'll get burnted."

The Christmas saint accepted Arthur's offering in the loving spirit in
which it was made and there was a letter of thanks in the sock around
which were heaped more pretty things than he had remembered he wanted.
Dunlop examined his many gifts with shrieks of delight. His one regret
was that he didn't see Santa Claus--if there was a Santa Claus. He knew
he didn't go to sleep last night--but he didn't remember anything till
Martha was kindling the fire this morning.

By Anne's breakfast plate were several dainty packages,--a copy of
_Little Lord Fauntleroy_, a