s, nor did he get left behind nor snowed up, as frequently
happens in stories, and in real life too, I am afraid. The snow-storm
came also; and the turkey nearly died a natural and premature death from
overeating. Donald came, too; Donald, with a line of down upon his upper
lip, and Greek and Latin on his tongue, and stores of knowledge in his
handsome head, and stories--bless me, you couldn't turn over a chip
without reminding Donald of something that happened "at College." One or
the other was always at Carol's bedside, for they fancied her paler than
she used to be, and they could not bear her out of sight. It was Uncle
Jack, though, who sat beside her in the winter twilights. The room was
quiet, and almost dark, save for the snow-light outside, and the
flickering flame of the fire, that danced over the "Sleeping Beauty's"
face and touched the Fair One's golden locks with ruddier glory. Carol's
hand (all too thin and white these latter days) lay close clasped in
Uncle Jack's, and they talked together quietly of many, many things.

"I want to tell you all about my plans for Christmas this year, Uncle
Jack," said Carol, on the first evening of his visit, "because it will
be the loveliest one I ever had. The boys laugh at me for caring so much
about it; but it isn't altogether because it is Christmas, nor because
it is my birthday; but long, long ago, when I first began to be ill, I
used to think, the first thing when I waked on Christmas morning,
'To-day is Christ's birthday--_and mine_!' I did not put the words close
together, you know, because that made it seem too bold; but I first
said, 'Christ's birthday,' out loud, and then, in a minute, softly to
myself--'_and mine_!' 'Christ's birthday--_and mine_!' And so I do not
quite feel about Christmas as other girls do. Mamma says she supposes
that ever so many other children have been born on that day. I often
wonder where they are, Uncle Jack, and whether it is a dear thought to
them, too, or whether I am so much in bed, and so often alone, that it
means more to me. Oh, I do hope that none of them are poor, or cold, or
hungry; and I wish--I wish they were all as happy as I, because they
are really my little brothers and sisters. Now, Uncle Jack dear, I am
going to try and make somebody happy every single Christmas that I live,
and this year it is to be the 'Ruggleses in the rear.'"

"That large and interesting brood of children in the little house at the
end of the bac