rtal story of "Tiny Tim" ever since they
could remember on Christmas day, and it gave Molly much secret pleasure
to know that these dear kind friends had kept up the same practice.
After that they fetched down Judy's guitar and, with Molly accompanying,
they sang some of the good old songs that people think they have
forgotten until they hear the thrum of the guitar and someone starts the
singing.

At last the tower clock boomed midnight, and as the echo of the final
stroke vibrated in the room, the door opened and Santa Claus stood on
the threshold.

"Shure, an' I'm just on the nick of time," he said with a good Irish
accent, as he unstrapped his pack and proceeded to distribute packages
done up in white tissue paper tied with red ribbons.

There were presents for everyone with no names attached, but Molly
suspected Professor Green of being the giver of the pretty things. Hers
was a volume of Rossetti's poems bound in dark blue leather. There was a
pretty volume of Tennyson's poems for Otoyo; and funny gifts for
everybody, with delightful jingles attached which the Professor read
very gravely. Otoyo almost had hysterics over her toy, which was simply
a small, imitation book shelf on which was a row of the works of Emerson
and Carlyle, filled with "meat-sweets."

Only one thing happened to mar that evening's pleasure, and this was the
fault of the little Japanese herself, to her undying mortification and
sorrow. When the party was at its very height and they had joined hands
and were circling around Santa Claus, who was singing "The Wearing of
the Green," Otoyo unexpectedly broke from the circle and with a funny,
squeaky little scream pointed wildly at the window.

"Why, child, what frightened you?" asked Miss Grace Green, taking the
girl's hand and looking into her white, scared face.

But Otoyo refused to explain and would only say over and over:

"I ask pardon. I feel so sorrowfully to make this beeg disturbance. Will
you forgive Otoyo?"

"Of course we forgive you, dear. And won't you tell us what you saw?"

"No, no, no. It was notheeng."

"We ought to be going, at any rate," said the Professor. "Miss Sen isn't
accustomed to celebrations like this when old people turn into children
and children turn into infants."

"Am I an infant?" asked Molly, "or a child?"

"I am afraid you still belong to the infant class, Miss Brown," replied
the Professor regretfully.

They attributed Otoyo's fright to nervousne