hy, what can this be? It feels like a blanket!" he cried in
astonishment, and his face was a picture of mingled surprise, pleasure,
and consternation, as a handsome fur-lined carriage rug was presently
revealed to view. "Oh, this is too much! This won't do! Edith, what
reckless extravagance!"

"Not extravagance at all," his wife answered sturdily. "You must be
kept warm, driving about from morning till night. It is nothing less
than a necessity which you ought to have had years ago. Besides, it's
not my gift alone--it's a joint affair. The children all contributed--
it's from all six of us, with our best love to you, dearest."

"I gave threepence," announced Pam proudly, thereby bringing a smile to
her father's face, though his voice had a suspicious quiver in it as he
said--

"Thank you, my six darlings!" and smoothed the rug with a loving touch.
Its presence would keep not only his body but his heart warm on many a
wintry day to come.

After this, the parcel-opening went on fast and furious. Pam received a
young lady doll, and had barely recovered from the rapture of her
arrival when, presto! There appeared a miniature travelling-box,
covered with leather, provided with straps, and a white PT painted at
the sides, just like a real true grown-up box! And inside--a veritable
trousseau! The work of loving mother hands on many a winter evening--a
blue serge coat and skirt, a party frock of pale pink silk, a long white
cloak; a straw hat for ordinary wear, and--could you believe it?--a
toque, boa, and muff of real fur, just like that old muff of mother's
that she wore before the new one arrived. Beneath these treasures a
supply of under garments, including a dear little flannel dressing-
jacket, and bedroom slippers to match. Never, no, never since the
creation of the world did a little girl of eight years receive a more
all-satisfying and delightful offering! In her parents' eyes at least,
Pam's little face, aglow with innocent rapture, was the most beautiful
sight of that happy Christmas Day.

Jack had a book from his father, a knitted tie from Betty, skates from
his mother--oh, for a good hard frost!--some cast-off tools from Miles,
and a packet of black sticking-plaster from Jill. He grinned broadly
over this last offering, and while the parcel-opening went on on both
sides fumbled mysteriously beneath the tablecloth. Five minutes later,
as he joined the others in a burst of laughter, his mother s