ou seem little
to yourself."

"You do grow out of it," replied her mother; but at heart she was
half-sorry. "You get just the same things. At least you get suitable
things."

Was she glad to have them all growing up?

"Dear me, there's no little children," she continued, with a sigh.
"You'll be eleven next May, Hanny."

"But there's Stephen's lovely little baby. Doesn't it seem just as if
God had sent him at the right time, when we were all growing big?"

She took the little girl's hands in hers and said dreamily, "You were
sent that way, at the right time. I was so glad to have you. I can
recall it so plainly. Old Mother Tappan was there. I was so afraid you'd
be a boy, and we had boys enough. And she said, 'Oh, what a nice little
girl. You'll be glad enough, Mrs. Underhill.' And so I was."

"As glad as Stephen?" said Hanny, with shining eyes.

"Yes, dear. Even if it wasn't Christmas. You were a welcome little May
flower."

In Bethlehem of Judea the other child had been born with the mighty
significance of a great gift to the world, a gift that had made
Christmas possible for all time to come. Just how the world was redeemed
no little girl of ten or so could understand. But it was redeemed
because the little child of Bethlehem bore the sins of the whole world
in His manhood. Ah, no wonder they wrote under the picture of His
mother, when He was gone, "_Mater Dolorosa_." But the years of His
childhood must have been sweet to remember. "The young child and His
mother." The wise men coming with their gifts. The sweet song going
around the world, the great love.

Her mother's hands relaxed from their clasp. She was very tired and had
fallen asleep. Her father folded his paper and looked over at her
wistfully. Hanny came and dropped softly on his knee and his strong,
tender arms enclosed her.

Was there any child quite like the little girl? They had been so proud
and happy over Stephen, so delighted with Margaret. He had loved them
all, and they were a nice household of children. But they were growing
up and going their ways. They would be making new homes. Ah, it would
be many a long year before the little girl would think of such a thing.
They would keep her snug and safe, "to have and to hold," and he smiled
to himself at the literal rendering.

The chime of the clock roused Mrs. Underhill. It was Hanny's bedtime,
and she had been so busy all day, so full of excitement, too, that her
checks had bloomed with