if nothing had happened.

"I really feel sorry about poor little Dolly," said Mrs. Cushing to her
husband.

"Do you think she cared much?" asked the Doctor, looking as if a new
possibility had struck his mind.

"Yes, indeed, poor child, she went away crying; but what could I do
about it? I couldn't stop to dress her."

"Wife, we must take her somewhere to make up for it," said the Doctor.

Just then the stage stopped at the door and a bundle from Boston was
handed in. Dolly's tears were soon wiped and dried, and her mourning was
turned into joy when a large jointed London doll emerged from the
bundle, the Christmas gift of her grandmother in Boston.

Dolly's former darling was old and shabby, but this was of twice the
size, and with cheeks exhibiting a state of the most florid health.

Besides this there was, as usual in grandmamma's Christmas bundle,
something for every member of the family; and so the evening went on
festive wings.

Poor little Dolly! only that afternoon she had watered with her tears,
at school, the dismal long straight seam, which stretched on before her
as life sometimes does to us, bare, disagreeable and cheerless. She had
come home crying, little dreaming of the joy just approaching; but
before bed-time no cricket in the hearth was cheerier or more noisy. She
took the new dolly to bed with her, and could hardly sleep, for the
excitement of her company.

Meanwhile, Hiel had brought the Doctor a message to the following
effect:

"I was drivin' by Tim Hawkins', and Mis' Hawkins she comes out and says
they're goin' to hev an apple-cuttin' there to-morrow night, and she
would like to hev you and Mis' Cushin' and all your folks come--Nabby
and all."

The Doctor and his lady of course assented.

"Wal, then, Doctor--ef it's all one to you," continued Hiel, "I'd like
to take ye over in my new double sleigh. I've jest got two new strings
o' bells up from Boston, and I think we'll sort o' make the snow fly.
S'pose there'd be no objections to takin' my mother 'long with ye?"

"Oh, Hiel, we shall be delighted to go in company with your mother, and
we're ever so much obliged to you," said Mrs. Cushing.

"Wal, I'll be round by six o'clock," said Hiel.

"Then, wife," said the Doctor, "we'll take Dolly, and make up for the
loss of her party."

Punctually at six, Hiel's two horses, with all their bells jingling,
stood at the door of the parsonage, whence Tom and Bill, who had been
waiting wit