em up, and was about to return
each to her own place, when suddenly the Great Idea was born.

With a little cry and a tense biting of her lip Polly Ann fell back
before it. Then excitedly she leaned forward, and examined with
searching eyes the presents. She drew a long breath, and stood erect
again.

"Well, why not?" she asked herself. Aunt Margaret had said she was
utterly irresponsible and absent-minded. Very well, then; she would be
utterly irresponsible and absent-minded. She would change the labels
and misdirect the boxes. John's should go to Mary, and Mary's to John.
Nellie should have that doll. Incidentally Nellie's mother and sisters
and brother and grandmother should have, too, for once in their starved
lives, a Christmas present that did not shriek durability the moment
the wrappings fell away.

It was nothing but fun for Polly Ann after this. With unafraid hands
she arranged the two sets of presents on the top of the bureau, and
planned their disposal. Mentally she reviewed the two families. In
Mary's home there were Mary herself; Joe, eighteen; Jennie, sixteen;
Carrie, fourteen; Tom, eleven; and Nellie, six; besides Grandma. In
John's there were John, his wife, Julia; their son Paul, ten; and
daughter Roselle, four; besides John's younger sister Barbara,
eighteen, and his mother.

It took a little planning to make the presents for six on the one hand
do for seven on the other, and vice versa; but with a little skillful
dividing and combining it was done at last to Polly Ann's huge
satisfaction. Then came the tying-up and the labeling. And here again
Polly Ann's absent-mindedness got in its fine work; for the red ribbons
and the white tissue-paper went into Mary's box, which left, of course,
only the brown paper and hemp twine for John's.

"There!" sighed Polly Ann when the boxes themselves were at last tied
up and addressed. "Now we 'll see what we shall see!" But even Polly
Ann, in spite of her bravely upheld chin, trembled a little as she
turned toward the room where Margaret Brackett lay sick.

It was a pity, as matters were, that Polly Ann could not have been a
fly on the wall of Mary's sitting-room at that moment, for Mary's
Jennie was saying gloomily, "I suppose, mother, we'll have Cousin
Margaret's Christmas box as usual."

"I suppose so," her mother answered. Then with a determined
cheerfulness came the assertion, "Cousin Margaret is always very kind
and thoughtful, you kno