le. You want to help, don't you, and not hinder?" his
mother called out of the dining-room.

Earl caught hold of his father's coat. "Father--look here--I--_I believe
I know where she is_!"

Then his father faced sharply around, his mother and Jenny's stood
listening in bewilderment, and Earl told his ridiculous, childish, and
cruel little story. "I--didn't dream--she'd really be--such a
little--goose as to--go," he choked out; "but she must have, for"--with
brave candor--"I know she believed every word I told her."

It seemed a fantastic theory, yet a likely one. It would give method to
the search, yet more alarm to the searchers. The mountain was a wide
region in which to find one little child.

Jenny's mother screamed out, "Oh, if she's lost on the mountain,
they'll never find her! They never will, they never will! Oh, Jenny,
Jenny, Jenny!"

Earl gave a despairing glance at her, and bolted up-stairs to his own
room. His mother called pityingly after him; but he only sobbed back,
"Don't, mother--please!" and kept on.

The boy, lying face downward on his bed, crying as if his heart would
break, heard presently the church-bell clang out fast and furious. Then
he heard loud voices down in the road, and the flurry of sleigh-bells.
His father had raised the alarm, and the search was organized.

After a while Earl arose, and crept over to the window. It looked
towards the mountain, which towered up, cold and white and relentless,
like one of the ice-hearted giants of the old Indian tales. Earl
shuddered as he looked at it. Presently he crawled down-stairs and into
the parlor. In the bay-window stood, like a gay mockery, the
Christmas-tree. It was a quite small one that year, only for the
family--some expected guests had failed to come--but it was well laden.
After tea the presents were to have been distributed. There were some
for his father and mother, and some for the servants, but the bulk of
them were for Earl.

By-and-by his mother, who had heard him come down-stairs, peeped into
the room, and saw him busily taking his presents from the tree. Her
heart sank with sad displeasure and amazement. She would not have
believed that her boy could be so utterly selfish as to think of
Christmas-presents _then_.

But she said nothing. She stole away, and returned to poor Mrs. Brown,
whom she was keeping with her; still she continued to think of it all
that long, terrible night, when they sat there waiting, listening to