each in
turn. "Bridget, my good girl, we will begin the world anew. I have
been a weak woman."

"Sorry a bit of it!" said Bridget, wiping away her tears with the
corner of her apron. "It's a heavy cross ye had, but we're all going
to help carry it."

"And, mother," broke in Arthur, "I've got a situation in a grocery
store."

"Arthur!"

"Yes. It isn't much, but I'll learn the business; and then, you know,
I can take care of you."

What a Christmas breakfast they had! It wasn't so much what was on the
table, although Bridget had made delicious waffles, and everything was
super-excellent, but it was the guest that sat at the board with them
that made it a feast to be remembered. While they were at the table,
talking over plans in which the mother manifested undoubted interest,
there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door that startled all the
inmates of the house.

"A new calamity!" sighed Mrs. Mulford, falling back into the old
attitude.

"It must be Santa Claus himself!" exclaimed Bridget, putting her head
through the kitchen door. Arthur admitted the gentleman, so swathed in
an immense scarf about the neck and chin as to leave one in doubt as
to whether he were friend or foe.

"Well, well!" said the stranger, divesting himself of his wraps, and
stamping the snow from his boots in the little hall; "Such a tramp as
I have had! Where's Carrie?"

"Carrie?" inquired Arthur, fearing he had admitted a lunatic.

"Yes, Carrie. My niece, Carrie Wharton. Are you her boy?"

"I don't know, sir."

"No more do I. She was Carrie Wharton, married Ned Mulford, and a long
tramp I've had to find her."

"Have you any bad news?" inquired Arthur, laying a detaining hand on
the stranger's arm; "because, if you have, I'd rather you wouldn't
mention it to-day. My name is Arthur Mulford, and we've had such a
happy Christmas."

"No fear, my boy, bless your tender heart! Why, I've come from Santa
Claus myself, and am chock full of sunshine that turns into gold."
Saying which, he entered the room where Mrs. Mulford and her children
were sitting, and Bridget hurrying to clear off the breakfast things.

"Carrie!" said the stranger in eager tones, advancing toward Mrs.
Mulford, who seemed to have heard a voice from the far-away past. She
was in her own home again, a careless child; father and mother were
living, death had never crossed her threshold, and all was joy and
happiness. A bewildered moment, and then a flash of recognitio