ould run
errands, down. They were busy fixing up a Christmas tree that half
filled the room, though it was of the very smallest. Yet, it was a
real Christmas tree, left over from the Sunday-school stock, and it
was dressed up at that. Pictures from the colored supplement of a
Sunday newspaper hung and stood on every branch, and three pieces of
colored glass, suspended on threads that shone in the smoky lamplight,
lent color and real beauty to the show. The children were greatly
tickled.

"John put it up," said the mother, by way of explanation, as the
professor eyed it approvingly. "There ain't nothing to eat on it. If
there was, it wouldn't be there a minute. The childer be always
a-searchin' in it."

"But there must be, or else it isn't a real Christmas tree," said the
professor, and brought out the little dollar. "This is a dollar which
a friend gave me for the children's Christmas, and she sends her love
with it. Now, you buy them some things and a few candles, Mrs.
Ferguson, and then a good supper for the rest of the family. Good
night, and a Merry Christmas to you. I think myself the baby is
getting better." It had just opened its eyes and laughed at the tree.

The professor was not very far on his way toward keeping his appointment
with Santa Claus before Mrs. Ferguson was at the grocery laying in her
dinner. A dollar goes a long way when it is the only one in the house;
and when she had everything, including two cents' worth of flitter-gold,
four apples, and five candles for the tree, the grocer footed up her
bill on the bag that held her potatoes--ninety-eight cents. Mrs.
Ferguson gave him the little dollar.

"What's this?" said the grocer, his fat smile turning cold as he laid
a restraining hand on the full basket. "That ain't no good."

"It's a dollar, ain't it?" said the woman, in alarm. "It's all right.
I know the man that give it to me."

"It ain't all right in this store," said the grocer, sternly. "Put
them things back. I want none o' that."

The woman's eyes filled with tears as she slowly took the lid off the
basket and lifted out the precious bag of potatoes. They were waiting
for that dinner at home. The children were even then camping on the
door-step to take her in to the tree in triumph. And now--

For the second time a restraining hand was laid upon her basket; but
this time it was not the grocer's. A gentleman who had come in to
order a Christmas turkey had overheard the conversation,