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good and pleasant, I hope,--but Mr. Boyd thought and thought. First he
thought how the "orphants" were going to have a brighter and merrier
Christmas than his own children, who had both father and mother. Then
he thought about sweet, patient little Janey, and quiet Mary, and
generous Jack, who had taken so much pains to give pleasure to his
sisters, and a great rush of shame filled his heart. Now, when Mr. Boyd
was once thoroughly aroused, he was alive through the whole of his long
frame. He thumped his knee with his fist, then arose and walked to the
counter, where he dealt out rapid orders to the astonished grocer for
nuts, candies and oranges; not in such large quantities, to be sure, as
the "orphants'" friend had done, but generous enough for three
children. And he bought a calico dress for his wife, a pair of shoes
for each of the little girls, and a cap for Jack. That store contained
everything, from grind-stones to slate-pencils, and from whale-oil to
peppermint-drops. These purchases, together with some needful
groceries, took all Mr. Boyd's money, except a few pennies, but a
Christmas don't-care feeling pervaded his being, and he borrowed a bag,
into which he stowed his goods, and set out for home.

It was a pretty heavy bagful, but its heaviness only made Mr. Boyd's
heart the lighter. When he reached home, he stood the bag up in one
corner, as if it held turnips, and said, "Don't meddle with that,
children." Then he went out and spent the rest of the short day in
chopping wood, which was very cheering to his wife. So many Sundays had
dawned with just wood enough to cook breakfast, that Mrs. Boyd began to
dread that day particularly, for her husband was almost sure to go
right away after breakfast and spend the whole day at the neighbors'
houses, while his own family shivered around a half-empty stove.

Mr. Boyd said never a word about the bag, and the unsuspecting
household thought it contained corn or some other uninteresting
vegetable, and paid little attention to it. It also stood there all the
next day, and the children grew quite used to the sight of it.

Sunday went by quietly, and, to the surprise of all, Mr. Boyd stayed at
home, making it his especial business to hold Janey on his lap, and
keep the stove well filled with wood. Janey wasn't feeling well that
day, and this unusual attention to her made the family very kindly
disposed toward their father, whom of late they had come to regard
almost