"We like to have you at home," said Gerty.

"It's pleasant enough to be at home. I was always glad enough to come
when I lived at Mr. Bray's and was earning something, and could feel as
if anybody was glad to see me."

"_Everybody_ is glad to see you _now_."

"But not as they were _then_," said Willie; "mother always looks as if
she expected to hear I'd got something to do; and grandfather, I
believe, never thought I should be good for much; and now, as I was
beginning to earn something, and be a help to them, I've lost my
chance!"

"But that an't your fault, Willie; you couldn't help Mr. Bray's dying. I
shouldn't think Mr. Cooper would blame you for not having anything to do
_now_."

"He don't _blame_ me; but if you were in my place you'd feel just as I
do, to see him sit in his arm-chair in the evening, and groan and look
up at me, as much as to say, 'It's _you_ I'm groaning about.'"

"Have heart," said Gerty; "I think you'll be rich, some time--and _then_
won't he be astonished!"

"Oh, Gerty! you're a nice child, and I think I can do anything. If ever
I am rich, I promise to go shares with you; but 'tan't so easy. I used
to think I could make money when I grew up; but it's pretty slow
business."

Here he was on the point of leaning down upon the table again, and
giving himself up to melancholy; but Gerty caught hold of his hands.
"Come," said she, "Willie, don't think any more about it. People have
troubles always, but they get over 'em; perhaps next week you'll be in a
better shop than Mr. Bray's, and we shall be as happy as ever. Do you
know," said she, changing the subject, "it's just two years to-night
since I came here?"

"Is it?" said Willie. "Did Uncle True bring you home with him the night
before Christmas?"

"Yes."

"Why, that was Santa Claus carrying you to good things, instead of
bringing good things to you, wasn't it?"

Gerty did not know anything about Santa Claus, that special friend of
children; and Willie, who had only lately read about him in some book,
undertook to tell her what he knew of the veteran toy-dealer. Finding
the interest of the subject had engaged his thoughts, Gerty returned to
her cooking, listening attentively to his story. When he had finished,
she was kneeling by the stove; her eyes twinkled with such a merry look,
that Willie exclaimed, "What are you thinking of, Gerty, that makes you
look so sly?"

"I was thinking that perhaps Santa Clans would come for you to