hes, how
nice it would be! Poor dear, he can't give me any thing; but it's no
matter,' answered Tilly, looking at the robin, who lay in the basket
with his head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.

'He can give you one thing, Tilly,--the pleasure of doing good. That is
one of the sweetest things in life; and the poor can enjoy it as well as
the rich.'

As her mother spoke, with her tired hand softly stroking her little
daughter's hair, Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window,
saying, in a frightened whisper,--

'I saw a face,--a man's face, looking in! It's gone now; but I truly saw
it.'

'Some traveller attracted by the light perhaps. I'll go and see.' And
Tilly's mother went to the door.

No one was there. The wind blew cold, the stars shone, the snow lay
white on field and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the
sky.

'What sort of a face was it?' asked Tilly's mother, coming back.

'A pleasant sort of face, I think; but I was so startled I don't quite
know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there,' said Tilly.

'I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road is dark
and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant to
people's eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbours, I
am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to dry,
and go to bed, dearie; I'll come soon.'

Tilly went, taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket near by,
lest he should be lonely in the night.

Soon the little house was dark and still, and no one saw the Christmas
spirits at their work that night.

When Tilly opened the door next morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped
her hands, and then stood still; quite speechless with wonder and
delight. There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood, all ready to
burn, a big bundle and a basket, with a lovely nosegay of winter roses,
holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.

'Oh, mother! did the fairies do it?' cried Tilly, pale with her
happiness, as she seized the basket, while her mother took in the
bundle.

'Yes, dear, the best and dearest fairy in the world, called "Charity."
She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful deeds like this, and
does not stay to be thanked,' answered her mother with full eyes, as she
undid the parcel.

There they were,--the warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawls, the
new shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket