rs. Nelson and Lou were at the station to meet Our Banker. Both of
them kissed him. His mother was so happy to see him the tears gleamed
in her eyes. Lou sized him up in her old way.

"Say, you look like a city chap, Evan!"

He smiled half-heartedly.

"Gee, I feel rotten," he said; "my head is splitting and I'm sick at my
stomach."

"You look thin, dear," said Mrs. Nelson, examining him in detail.

"Oh, I'll be all right after a snooze," he replied, lightly, seeing
that his mother felt considerable anxiety.

The 'bus was full; the Nelsons walked from the depot to their home.
Evan answered the questions asked him on the way, endeavoring to appear
cheerful, but took little interest in the old town. He drank a cup of
his mother's tea, when they arrived home, then begged off to bed. Lou
spread wet cloths on his forehead until he was asleep, and afterwards
went downstairs to load his stocking.

"Mother, dear," she said, cracking a nut, "Evan looks fierce. I
believe he is either worked or worried to death."

Mrs. Nelson sighed.

"This is a funny world," she observed petulantly; "it looks good from
the outside, but when you come to find out it is a disappointment."

"Oh, mamma," laughed the daughter, "you sound melancholy. It isn't as
bad as all that, you know. His headache will be gone in the morning.
Christmas trains would put anyone out of commission."

"He looked fagged though, Louie."

"Most bankers do," observed Lou, casually.

Mrs. Nelson looked quizzically at the girl.

"Maybe I should never have encouraged him to enter a bank," she said,
doubtfully.

The father came in, covered with snow.

"Hello, Santa," cried Lou.

"Did he come?" asked Nelson, returning his daughter's smile, but
looking somewhat anxiously about.

"Yes," said Mrs. Nelson, "but he was tired and went to bed. Don't wake
him up till morning."

"He isn't sick, is he?" asked the father.

"No, just a headache," said Lou.

By and by she went off to bed, upon which Nelson proceeded to unwrap
several parcels he carried, and fill her stocking.

"It doesn't seem long," he said pensively, "since these two stockings
weren't big enough to hold anything worth while."

"No, indeed, George. I often wish they were both children again."

How many times a day is that impossible wish voiced by the mothers of
every nation!

Christmas morning found Lou awake early. She repeated the pranks of
childhood, stealing downstairs in the