firm and disagreeable with you!"

"Very well, your Highness, I surrender."

"That's a dear Papa! Now, what were you going to give me? Confess!"

"A bronze figure of Santa Claus; and in the little round belly, that
shakes, when he laughs, like a bowl full of jelly, is a wonderful
clock. Oh, you would never give it up if you could see it."

"Nonsense," laughed Carol; "as I never have to get up to breakfast, nor
go to bed, nor catch trains, I think my old clock will do very well!
Now, Mama, what were you going to give me?"

"Oh, I hadn't decided. A few more books, and a gold thimble, and a
smelling-bottle, and a music-box."

"Poor Carol," laughed the child, merrily, "she can afford to give up
these lovely things, for there will still be left Uncle Jack, and
Donald, and Paul, and Hugh, and Uncle Rob, and Aunt Elsie, and a dozen
other people."

So Carol had her way, as she generally did, but it was usually a good
way, which was fortunate, under the circumstances; and Sarah Maud had a
set of Miss Alcott's books, and Peter a modest silver watch, Cornelius
a tool-chest, Clement a dog-house for his "lame puppy," Larry a
magnificent Noah's ark, and each of the little girls a beautiful doll.
You can well believe that everybody was very merry and very thankful.
All the family, from Mr. Bird down to the cook, said they had never
seen so much happiness in the space of three hours; but it had to end,
as all things do. The candles flickered and went out, the tree was
left alone with its gilded ornaments, and Mrs. Bird sent the children
down stairs at half-past eight, thinking that Carol looked tired.

"Now, my darling, you have done quite enough for one day," said Mrs.
Bird, getting Carol into her little night-dress; "I am afraid you will
feel worse to-morrow, and that would be a sad ending to such a good
time."

"Oh, wasn't it a lovely, lovely time," sighed Carol. "From first to
last, everything was just right. I shall never forget Larry's face
when he looked at the turkey; nor Peter's, when he saw his watch; nor
that sweet, sweet Kitty's smile when she kissed her dolly; nor the
tears in poor, dull Sarah Maud's eyes when she thanked me for her
books; nor--"

"But we mustn't talk any longer about it to-night," said Mrs. Bird,
anxiously; "you are too tired, dear."

"I am not so very tired, Mama. I have felt well all day; not a bit of
pain anywhere. Perhaps this has done me good."

"Perhaps; I hope so. There was