ddenly up at the curbstone, and out sprang a little girl.

"See, papa, how lovely! So green, and fresh, and thick!" she said,
pointing to the row of pines.

A bargain was concluded in a trice. The money was dropped into the
eager, outstretched mitten of the old woman, and a little Christmas
tree dragged over the sidewalk, and set up in the buggy.

"We must have some of these lower branches cut off; they are in the
way," said papa.

"Hev a knife, sir?" shouted a ragged little fellow, whipping a rusty
old knife out of his pocket.

"Please, sir, lemme cut it for you. Say, where?" he cried, laying hold
of the pine, as the gentleman in the buggy pointed to him where to
cut.

The lower branches being trimmed to the gentleman's satisfaction, the
Christmas tree, leaning comfortably against the crimson afghan, was
soon on its way to Meadow Home, while its lower branches and some
jingling small coin remained in the hands of the gaping urchin on the
curbstone.

"This here's luck--fust-rate luck," remarked the small boy, stamping
his feet, and staring stupidly after the retreating buggy wheels.

"Out of the way there!" growled a man in a farmer's frock, lifting a
pile of frozen turkeys from a wagon.

The boy ducked aside, his ragged little trousers fluttering in the
wind. Then he sat down on the market steps to count his coin.

"Hi! twenty-five cents. There's a mutton stew and onions for you and
your folks a Christmas, Mike Slattery, and all this jolly green stuff
thrown in free gratis. That chap was a gen'leman, and no mistake.
Won't Winnie hop when she sees me a-h'isting of these here over our
stairs, and she a-blowin' at me for a week to bring her some sich, and
me niver seein' nary a chance at 'em 'cept stealin's, which is wot
this here feller ain't up to no ways whatsomever. No, _sir_. Hi!"

Mike waved his Christmas boughs aloft in great glee.

An old gentleman with gold-headed cane and spectacles was going up the
steps of the market, followed by a beautiful black-and-white setter.
The playful dog sprang at the green branches. Mike held on to them
stoutly. The dog suddenly let go of them, and bounded away, while Mike
rolled over and over to the foot of the steps, clutching tightly the
pine boughs.

"You'll ketch it," he muttered, setting his teeth hard together behind
his white lips, and trying in vain to scramble up.

"Yer hurt, bub?" asked a wrinkled old apple woman, turning round on
her three-legged stool,