he evening was left until the last.
By this time some of the parents had come in, among whom was Mrs. Blair,
and they seemed to enjoy the fun quite as much as the children.

They looked on with great interest while a gentleman brought round a hat in
which were a number of pieces of paper, each marked with a figure.

"Now, children," said Mr. Elton, "you must all take a paper out of the hat
and see what the number is that is marked on it, and when I call out the
number you must stand up and you will get something off the tree.
Now, then; attention! Number fourteen!"

Instantly two boys stood up. "No, no," said Mr. Elton, "you haven't both
number fourteen!"

"Please, sir, this chap's wrong," said a voice; "'e ain't got no fourteen."

It was soon discovered that the boy had mistaken number forty-one for
fourteen, and many other similar mistakes occurred, owing to the ignorance
of the children. But there were many willing helpers, and at last the
business was settled. Each child received a toy and a warm article of
clothing. For a few minutes the uproar was deafening, with the blowing of
whistles, shaking of tambourines, beating of drums, etc., as each child
proceeded to try his own particular toy.

Willie had been fortunate enough to obtain a box of soldiers and a pair of
warm knitted cuffs, which were tried on and much admired by Gladys, while
Bob was the happy possessor of a tin whistle and a thick woollen comforter.

"Wear it home," said Miss Elton, smiling at him; "you will find out how
warm it is."

It was late when the children separated, tired and happy. It was an
evening never to be forgotten by them, and years after, when they had grown
up to be men and women, some of them hardened by sin, this Christmas treat
at the mission school stood out in their memories as the one piece of
happiness in their miserable lives.

CHAPTER VI

LITTLE BERTRAM

"Arthur," said Miss Elton to her brother, as they sat by the fire that
evening talking over the events of the day, "has it ever occurred to you
that there is a striking likeness between that little Willie Brown and our
Gladys?"

"No, dear," was the answer, "I cannot say that it has. I have often
thought him very superior to the other children, and he is not in the least
like his brother Bob."

"Well, Nora Graham called my attention to the fact this afternoon, and it
has haunted me ever since. Do you think, Arthur, it _could_ be by any
chance? Littl