ed Cynthia. "Yes, of course he does; he's
hateful." But Neal still said nothing, and Edith got no satisfaction.

Christmas Eve closed in early. At about four o'clock it began to snow,
and the wind blew great drifts against the side of the house. Every one
said it was going to be an old-fashioned Christmas.

It was the custom in the Franklin household to look at the presents that
night. As Cynthia said, when arguing the point with some one who thought
it a shocking idea to see one's gifts before Christmas morning, it made
it so much more exciting to open their own packages, and to look at
their treasures by lamplight. Then in the morning they had the pleasure
of seeing them a second time, and of investigating their stockings,
which, of course, were hung ready for the coming of Santa Claus.

After supper Jack and Neal carried in the great clothes-basket which for
days had been the receptacle for packages of all sizes and kinds, those
that had come by post and those which the family themselves had
carefully tied up, until now it looked like Santa Claus's own pack.

Mrs. Franklin presided at the basket and read the names, and when the
colored ribbons were untied and the tempting-looking white parcels were
opened, there were shrieks and exclamations of delight, for every one
declared that this particular gift was just what he or she most desired.

Each one had a table covered with a white cloth, upon which to place his
treasures, and when all was done the "long parlor" at Oakleigh looked
like a fancy bazar, so many and varied were the articles displayed.

There was an odd-looking package addressed to Jack and Cynthia. It was
heavy and covered with postage-stamps in consequence, and proved to be a
large box stuffed with straw.

"What under the sun is it? Of course it's from Aunt Betsey," said Jack,
as he rooted down into the hay, scattering it in all directions. Out
came what appeared to be an egg tied up with old-fashioned plaid ribbon,
and an ancient-looking beaded purse. The purse was marked "Cynthia," so
Jack appropriated the egg, but with an exclamation of chagrin.

"She is sending coals to Newcastle," said he. "Aunt Betsey must have
thought it was Easter. But it is the queerest-feeling egg I ever came
across. It's as heavy as lead."

He shook it and held it up to the light.

"Ha, ha!" said he; "a good egg! I'd like to have the machine packed with
just such eggs."

Inside were ten five-dollar gold pieces, and