have cared to
come, Joan?"

Joan only smiled. She felt happy beyond words.

"I've got to take you there now, if you'll come. For the night,
perhaps--or at least for the evening. Mittie has had a wetting"--he
called the younger girl by her name half-unconsciously--"and they have
put her to bed for fear of a chill. And she wants you."

Naturally Joan was a good deal concerned, though Fred made little of the
accident. He explained more fully, and an appeal to the old lady brought
permission.

"Not for the night, child--I can't spare you for that, but for the
evening. Silly little goose Mittie is!"

And Fred, with delight, carried Joan off.

"So Mrs. Wills can't do without you, even for one night," he said, when
they were spinning along the high road, he and she behind and the
chauffeur in front. He laughed, and bent to look into her eyes. "Joan,
what is to happen when she _has_ to do without you altogether?"

"Oh, I suppose--she might manage as she used to do before we came." Joan
said this involuntarily; and then she understood. Her colour went up.

"I don't think _I_ can manage very much longer without you--my Joan!"
murmured Fred. "If you'll have me, darling."

And she only said, "Oh, Fred!"

But he understood.

[Sidenote: Here is a story of an out-of-the-way Christmas entertainment
got up for a girl's pleasure.]

A Christmas with Australian Blacks

BY

J. S. PONDER

"I say, Dora, can't we get up some special excitement for sister Maggie,
seeing she is to be here for Christmas? I fancy she will, in her home
inexperience, expect a rather jolly time spending Christmas in this
forsaken spot. I am afraid that my letters home, in which I coloured
things up a bit, are to blame for that," my husband added ruefully.

"What can we do, Jack?" I asked. "I can invite the Dunbars, the Connors
and the Sutherlands over for a dance, and you can arrange for a
kangaroo-hunt the following day. That is the usual thing when special
visitors come, isn't it?"

"Yes," he moodily replied, "that about exhausts our programme. Nothing
very exciting in that. I say, how would it do to take the fangs out of a
couple of black snakes and put them in her bedroom, so as to give her
the material of a thrilling adventure to narrate when she goes back to
England?"

"That would never do," I protested, "you might frighten her out of her
wits. Remember she is not strong, and spare her everything except very
innocent adventures.