their
Sunday stockings, which Jimmy proceeded to hang along the edge of the
mantel shelf. This done, they all trooped obediently off to bed.
Theodora gave another sigh, and seated herself at the window, where
she could watch the moonlit prairie for Mrs. Martin's homecoming and
knit at the same time.

I am afraid that you will think from all the sighing Theodora was
doing that she was a very melancholy and despondent young lady. You
couldn't think anything more unlike the real Theodora. She was the
jolliest, bravest girl of sixteen in all Saskatchewan, as her shining
brown eyes and rosy, dimpled cheeks would have told you; and her sighs
were not on her own account, but simply for fear the children were
going to be disappointed. She knew that they would be almost
heartbroken if Santa Claus did not come, and that this would hurt the
patient hardworking little mother more than all else.

Five years before this, Theodora had come to live with Uncle George
and Aunt Elizabeth in the little log house at Red Butte. Her own
mother had just died, and Theodora had only her big brother Donald
left, and Donald had Klondike fever. The Martins were poor, but they
had gladly made room for their little niece, and Theodora had lived
there ever since, her aunt's right-hand girl and the beloved playmate
of the children. They had been very happy until Uncle George's death
two years before this Christmas Eve; but since then there had been
hard times in the little log house, and though Mrs. Martin and
Theodora did their best, it was a woefully hard task to make both ends
meet, especially this year when their crops had been poor. Theodora
and her aunt had made every sacrifice possible for the children's
sake, and at least Jimmy and the twins had not felt the pinch very
severely yet.

At seven Mrs. Martins bells jingled at the door and Theodora flew out.
"Go right in and get warm, Auntie," she said briskly. "I'll take Ned
away and unharness him."

"It's a bitterly cold night," said Mrs. Martin wearily. There was a
note of discouragement in her voice that struck dismay to Theodora's
heart.

"I'm afraid it means no Christmas for the children tomorrow," she
thought sadly, as she led Ned away to the stable. When she returned to
the kitchen Mrs. Martin was sitting by the fire, her face in her
chilled hand, sobbing convulsively.

"Auntie--oh, Auntie, don't!" exclaimed Theodora impulsively. It was
such a rare thing to see her plucky, resolute