ly, as if for dear life.

But at sight of Patty, she jumped up, upsetting her work-basket, and flew
to greet her guest.

"You dear thing!" she cried, as she embraced her; "I was so sorry not to
see you when I called. I should have come again, but I'm so rushed with
Christmas work, that I can't go anywhere until Christmas is over. Do take
off your things and sit down, and don't mind if I go on sewing, will you?
I can talk just as well, you know."

"Apparently you can!" said Patty, laughing, for as she chatted,
Clementine had already resumed her work, and her fingers flew nimbly
along the satin seams. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Dressing dolls," said Clementine, as she threaded her needle; "and I've
forty-five still to do,--but their underclothing is done, so it's only a
matter of frocks, and some hats. Did you have a good time in Europe?"

Clementine talked very fast, apparently to keep time with her flying
fingers, and as Patty picked up a lot of dry goods in order that she
might occupy the chair they were in, her hostess rattled on.

"How did you like Venice? Was it lovely by moonlight? Oh, would you put
this scarlet velvet on the spangled lace,--or save it for this white
chiffon?"

"Clementine! do keep still a minute!" cried Patty; "you'll drive me
frantic! What _are_ you doing with all these dolls?"

"Dressing them. How did you like Paris? Was it very gay? And was London
smoky,--foggy, I mean?"

"Yes; everything was gay or smoky or lovely by moonlight, or just what it
ought to be. Now tell me _why_ you dress four hundred million dolls all
at once."

"Oh, they're for the Sunshine Babies. Was Naples very dirty? How did you
like----"

"Clementine, you leave the map of Europe alone. I'm talking now! What are
Sunshine Babies?"

"Why, the babies that the Sunshine Society gives a Christmas to. And
there's oceans of babies, and they all want dolls,--I guess the boys must
like dolls, too, they want so many. And, oh, Patty, they're the dearest
little things,--the babies, I mean,--and I just _love_ to dress dolls for
them. I'd rather do it than to make presents for my rich friends."

Suddenly Patty felt a great wave of self-compunction. She had planned and
prepared gifts for all her friends, and for most of her relatives, but
for the poor she had done nothing! To charity she had given no thought!
And at Christmas, when all the world should feel the spirit of good will
to men, she had utterly neglected to remember