nt of the doors. A general scramble followed. The
children fairly tumbled over each other in their eagerness to fill their
baskets. Madame cautiously held the baby down in their midst, till the
chubby little fists were filled. Then the bravest of the youngsters
sprang up and burst open the closed doors. In vain they peered into the
mysterious apartment. Saint Nicholas was nowhere to be seen.

Soon there was a general rush to another room, where stood a table,
covered with the finest and whitest of linen damask. Each child, in a
flutter of excitement, laid a shoe upon it. The door was then carefully
locked, and its key hidden in the mother's bedroom. Next followed
goodnight kisses, a grand family procession to the upper floor, merry
farewells at bedroom doors, and silence, at last, reigned in the Van
Gleck mansion.

Early the next morning the door was solemnly unlocked and opened in the
presence of the assembled household, when lo! a sight appeared, proving
Saint Nicholas to be a saint of his word!

Every shoe was filled to overflowing, and beside each stood many a
colored pile. The table was heavy with its load of presents--candies,
toys, trinkets, books, and other articles. Everyone had gifts, from the
grandfather down to the baby.

Little Katy clapped her hands with glee and vowed inwardly that the cat
should never know another moment's grief.

Hendrick capered about the room, flourishing a superb bow and arrows
over his head. Hilda laughed with delight as she opened a crimson box
and drew forth its glittering contents. The rest chuckled and said "Oh!"
and "Ah!" over their treasures, very much as we did here in America on
last Christmas Day.

With her glittering necklace in her hands, and a pile of books in her
arms, Hilda stole towards her parents and held up her beaming face for a
kiss. There was such an earnest, tender look in her bright eyes that her
mother breathed a blessing as she leaned over her.

"I am delighted with this book. Thank you, Father," she said, touching
the top one with her chin. "I shall read it all day long."

"Aye, sweetheart," said mynheer, "you cannot do better. There is no one
like Father Cats. If my daughter learns his 'Moral Emblems' by heart,
the mother and I may keep silent. The work you have there is the
Emblems--his best work. You will find it enriched with rare engravings
from Van de Venne."

Considering that the back of the book was turned away, mynheer certainly
showed a