separate plum into it and
stir it once for luck, or I'll not eat a single slice--for Carol is the
dearest part of Christmas to Uncle Jack, and he'll have none of it
without her. She is better than all the turkeys and puddings and
apples and spare-ribs and wreaths and garlands and mistletoe and
stockings and chimneys and sleigh-bells in Christendom. She is the
very sweetest Christmas Carol that was ever written, said, sung or
chanted, and I am coming, as fast as ships and railway trains can carry
me, to tell her so."

Carol's joy knew no bounds. Mr. and Mrs. Bird laughed like children
and kissed each other for sheer delight, and when the boys heard it
they simply whooped like wild Indians, until the Ruggles family, whose
back yard joined their garden, gathered at the door and wondered what
was "up" in the big house.

IV.

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER."

Uncle Jack did really come on the twentieth. He was not detained by
business, nor did he get left behind nor snowed up, as frequently
happens in stories, and in real life too, I am afraid. The snow-storm
came also; and the turkey nearly died a natural and premature death
from over-eating. Donald came, too; Donald, with a line of down upon
his upper lip, and Greek and Latin on his tongue, and stores of
knowledge in his handsome head, and stories--bless me, you couldn't
turn over a chip without reminding Donald of something that happened
"at College."

One or the other was always at Carol's bedside, for they fancied her
paler than she used to be, and they could not bear her out of sight.
It was Uncle lack, though, who sat beside her in the winter twilights.
The room was quiet, and almost dark, save for the snow-light outside,
and the flickering flame of the fire, that danced over the "Sleeping
Beauty's" face, and touched the Fair One's golden locks with ruddier
glory. Carol's hand (all too thin and white these latter days) lay
close clasped in Uncle Jack's, and they talked together quietly of
many, many things. "I want to tell you all about my plans for
Christmas this year, Uncle Jack," said Carol, on the first evening of
his visit, "because it will be the loveliest one I ever had. The boys
laugh at me for caring so much about it; but it isn't altogether
because it is Christmas nor because it is my birthday; but long, long
ago, when I first began to be ill, I used to think, the first thing
when I waked on Christmas morning, 'To-day is Christ's birt