. "That's just
the thing for papa--for he is so busy. How much does it cost, Rosie?"

"About a dollar, Arthur thought. I never paid so much for a
Christmas present in my life. And I'm not sure yet that I can get
one. But if I do sell two dollars worth of candy, I can buy
something perfectly beautiful for both father and mother."

"Oh, Rosie," Maida asked breathlessly, "do you mean that your
mother's come back?"

Rosie's face changed. "Don't you think I'd tell you that the first
thing? No, she hasn't come back and they don't say anything about
her coming back. But if she ever does come, I guess I'm going to
have her Christmas present all ready for her."

Maida patted her hand. "She's coming back," she said; "I know it."

Rosie sighed. "You come down Main Street the night before Christmas.
Dicky and I are going to buy our Christmas presents then and we can
show you where to get the little razor."

"I'd love to." Maida beamed. And indeed, it seemed the most
fascinating prospect in the world to her. Every night after she went
to bed, she thought it over. She was really going to buy Christmas
presents without any grown-up person about to interfere. It was
rapture.

The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than the
night before Halloween, for there were so many things to display. It
was evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves and
show cases.

"We'll bring the long kitchen table in for your things, Arthur,"
Maida decided after a perplexed consideration of the subject.
"Dicky's and Rosie's things ought to go on the shelves and into the
show cases where nobody can handle them."

They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautiful
old blue counter-pane.

"That's fine!" Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from the
bushel-baskets in which he brought them.

The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him to
arrange them prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied one
end of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and "cats,"
the other. In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carved
from peach-stones. From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks.

Having arranged all Arthur's things, the quartette filed upstairs to
the closet where Dicky's paper-work was kept.

"Gracious, I didn't realize there were so many," Rosie said.

"Sure, the lad has worked day and night," Granny said, patting
Dicky's thin cheek.

They fill