n as it was spoken unto them.

And when eight days were fulfilled his name was called

JESUS

V. THE TELLTALE TILE*

* From "Kristy's Queer Christmas," Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.

OLIVE THORNE MILLER

It begins with a bit of gossip of a neighbour who had come in to see
Miss Bennett, and was telling her about a family who had lately moved
into the place and were in serious trouble. "And they do say she'll have
to go to the poorhouse," she ended.

"To the poorhouse! how dreadful! And the children, too?" and Miss
Bennett shuddered.

"Yes; unless somebody'll adopt them, and that's not very likely. Well, I
must go," the visitor went on, rising. "I wish I could do something for
her, but, with my houseful of children, I've got use for every penny I
can rake and scrape."

"I'm sure I have, with only myself," said Miss Bennett, as she closed
the door. "I'm sure I have," she repeated to herself as she resumed her
knitting; "it's as much as I can do to make ends meet, scrimping as I
do, not to speak of laying up a cent for sickness and old age."

"But the poorhouse!" she said again. "I wish I could help her!" and the
needles flew in and out, in and out, faster than ever, as she turned
this over in her mind. "I might give up something," she said at last,
"though I don't know what, unless--unless," she said slowly, thinking
of her one luxury, "unless I give up my tea, and it don't seem as if I
COULD do that."

Some time the thought worked in her mind, and finally she resolved to
make the sacrifice of her only indulgence for six months, and send the
money to her suffering neighbour, Mrs. Stanley, though she had never
seen her, and she had only heard she was in want.

How much of a sacrifice that was you can hardly guess, you, Kristy, who
have so many luxuries.

That evening Mrs. Stanley was surprised by a small gift of money "from a
friend," as was said on the envelope containing it.

"Who sent it?" she asked, from the bed where she was lying.

"Miss Bennett told me not to tell," said the boy, unconscious that he
had already told.

The next day Miss Bennett sat at the window knitting, as usual--for
her constant contribution to the poor fund of the church was a certain
number of stockings and mittens--when she saw a young girl coming up to
the door of the cottage.

"Who can that be?" she said to herself. "I never saw her before. Come
in!" she called; in answer to a knock. The girl entered