killed at the great factory
where he worked, their mother was obliged to sell almost everything to
get enough money to pay for his funeral, and to help support her
little family; so that now she had only a narrow wooden settee for her
bed, while Harry stretched himself on a couple of chairs, and the rest
slept all together in the bed on the floor. Poor as they were, they
were not very unhappy. Almost every night, when their mother took the
one dim candle all to herself, so that she could see to sew neatly,
Sweetie would amuse the other children by telling them beautiful
stories about the little flower people, and the good fairies, and
about Kriss Kringle--though how she knew about him I can't tell, for
he never came down their chimney at Christmas.

"And, when my ship comes in," Sweetie used to say, "I'll have the
tallest and handsomest Christmas tree, filled to the top with candies
and toys, and lighted all over with different-colored candles, and
we'll sing and dance round it. Let's begin now, and get our voices in
tune." Then they would all pipe up as loud as they could, and were as
happy as if they half believed Sweetie's ship was ready to land.

But there came a hard year for poor needle-women: it was the year I am
writing about, and Sweetie's mother found it almost impossible to get
even the necessaries of life. Her children's lips were bluer, their
faces more pinched, and thin, threadbare clothes more patched than
ever. Sweetie used to take the two boys, and hunt in the streets for
bits of coal and wood; but often, the very coldest days, they would
have no fire. It was very hard to bear, and especially for the poor
mother, who still had to toil on, though she was so chilled, and her
hands so numbed, she could hardly draw her needle through her work;
and for Harry, who trudged through the streets from daylight until the
street lamps were lighted.

The day before Christmas came. People were so busy cooking Christmas
dainties that they did not stop to sift their cinders very carefully,
and Sweetie and the boys had picked up quite a large bag full of
half-burnt coal in the alleys, and were carrying it home as carefully
as if it were a great treasure--as, indeed, it was to them. Being very
tired, they sat down to rest on the curbstone in front of an elegant
mansion. One of the long windows was open.

"Let's get close up under the window," said Sweetie. "I guess it's too
warm inside, and may be we shall get some o