fter
she's gone to sleep, you know."

Miss Jane, somewhat bewildered, took the thing that Gypsy held out to
her, and held it up in the light that fell from a neighbor's half-open
door.

It was a large illuminated text, painted on Bristol board of a soft gray
shade, and very well done for a non-professional artist. The letters
were of that exquisite shade known by the artists as _smalt_ blue, edged
heavily with gold, and round them a border of yellow, delicate sprays of
wheat. Miss Jane spelled out in German text:

"And the Inhabitants shall not say I am Sick."

"Well, thank you. I'll put it up. Peace never gets asleep till terrible
late, and I'm rather worn out with work to lie awake waitin' till she
is. But then, if you want to surprise her--I s'pose she _will_ be
dreadful tickled--I guess I'll manage it someways."

Perhaps Miss Jane was softened into being obliging by her coming
holiday; or perhaps the mournful, longing words touched something in her
that nothing touched very often.

Gypsy and Joy were not so old but that Christmas Eve with its little
plans for the morrow held yet a certain shade of that delightful
suspense and mystery which perhaps never hangs about the greater and
graver joys of life. I fancy we drink it to the full, in the hanging up
of stockings, the peering out into the dark to see Santa Claus come down
the chimney (perfectly conscious that that gentleman is the most
transparent of hoaxes, but with a sort of faith in him all the while; we
_may_ see him if we can lie awake long enough--who knows?) the falling
asleep before we know it, and much against our will, the waking in the
cold, gray, mysterious dawn, and pattering about barefoot to "catch" the
dreaming and defenseless family.

"I'm going to lie awake all night," Gypsy announced, as she stood
brushing out her bright, black hair; "then I'll catch you, you see if I
don't."

"But I'm going to lie awake, too," said Joy. "I was going to last
Christmas, only--I didn't."

"Sit up and see the sun dance, like Patty."

"Well, let's. I never was awake all night in my whole life."

"Nor I," said Gypsy. "I came pretty near it once, but I somehow went to
sleep along at the end."

"When was that?"

"Why, one time I had a dream, and went clear over to the Kleiner Berg
Basin, in my sleep, and got into the boat."

"You did!"

"I guess I did. The boat was unlocked and the oars were up at the barn,
and so I floated off, and there I had to s