cry with her one eye, while Ned stopped laughing and went
to scolding; the chicken put his claw before his face, as if ashamed of
such a dog, and even the horse shook his head.

Poor Spot was under a cloud.

"I didn't know it was anything Scrubby cared for, and I don't believe
it is, either," he snapped.

"I saw Scrubby write it," said Minx, "and she stuck the pencil in my
ear when she'd finished."

"She was sitting on us when she wrote it," said Peg and Lyd together.

"Yes, and she held me on her lap and read it to me when it was done,"
put in Francaise.

"Of course it's her letter," spoke up the rocking-horse. "Don't you
remember, Fran, she hitched it to my bridle and told you to ride right
off and give it to old Kriss when he came around?"

"You're a nice crowd!" growled Spot. "Every one of you knew all about
this, and left it kicking around on the floor! You _are_ a nice crowd!
I'll take charge of it myself now, and see that old Kriss gets it. He
can't read it, of course. Nobody could read that; but it shows how much
_you_ all think of Scrubby."

Spot had the best of it now; but the French lady spoke up in a way that
put the others in good spirits right off, and made honest Spot feel as
if he had been sat down upon.

"Perhaps some people can read, if you cant," she said, "_I_ can read
that letter for you, and for old Kriss too, if he wants me to."

She could not read a word, but she opened out the scribbled sheet in
fine style, and just repeated what she had heard Scrubby say. And this
is what Scrubby tried to put in the letter:

OLE KRISS: I want a tree, please, ole Kriss, _right away_. And lots
of pitty things. And glass s'ippers for mamma. And moss under it,
and animals, jess like I used to have. And a pink coat for papa,
and not wait for some time, cos that's a noosance.

It was very queer how they all acted when they heard the letter. There
was not another cross word said--or a word of any kind for that matter.
Not one of them even looked at the others, and it was not until poor
Spot gave a big snuff that each of them found out that the rest were
crying.

"Well, I know what _I'm_ going to do," said Minx, at last. "I'm just
going to get that child a tree; that's what I'm going to do."

"And I'm going to help you," Francaise said, as heartily as if she were
not a fine lady at all. "She ruined my dress, and tore my lace, and put
my hair in such a state as never was; but I don't car