ow, as my contribution to this fine set out."

Away trotted Mrs. Smith to her pantry, and picked out a couple of
tempting cakes, shaped like hearts and full of plums. There was a goodly
array of pies on the shelves, and she took two of them, saying, as she
climbed the stairs again, "They remembered the children, so I'll
remember them, and have my share of the fun."

So up went the pies, for Mrs. Smith had not much to give, and her spirit
was generous, though her pastry was not of the best. It looked very
droll to see pies sitting about on the thresholds of closed doors, but
the cakes were quite elegant, and filled up the corners of the towel
handsomely, for the apron lay in the middle, with the oranges right and
left, like two sentinels in yellow uniforms.

It was very late when the flicker of a candle came up stairs, and a pale
lady, with a sweet sad face, appeared, bringing a pair of red and a pair
of blue mittens for her Dolly and Polly. Poor Mrs. Blake did have a hard
time, for she stood all day in a great store that she might earn bread
for the poor children who staid at home and took care of one another.
Her heart was very heavy that night, because it was the first Christmas
she had ever known without gifts and festivity of some sort. But Petkin,
the youngest child, had been ill, times were very hard, the little
mouths gaped for food like the bills of hungry birds, and there was no
tender mate to help fill them.

If any elves had been hovering about the dingy hall just then, they
would have seen the mother's tired face brighten beautifully when she
discovered the gifts, and found that her little girls had been so kindly
remembered. Something more brilliant than the mock diamonds in Miss
Kent's best earrings fell and glittered on the dusty floor as Mrs. Blake
added the mittens to the other things, and went to her lonely room
again, smiling as she thought how she could thank them all in a sweet
and simple way.

Her windows were full of flowers, for the delicate tastes of the poor
lady found great comfort in their beauty. "I have nothing else to give,
and these will show how grateful I am," she said, as she rejoiced that
the scarlet geraniums were so full of gay clusters, the white
chrysanthemum stars were all out, and the pink roses at their loveliest.

They slept now, dreaming of a sunny morrow as they sat safely sheltered
from the bitter cold. But that night was their last, for a gentle hand
cut them all, an