s were full. I cannot tell you exactly what
was in them. I remember that my grandmother said, that in every
stocking went, first of all, a nice, pretty pair of new ones, just the
size of the old ones; and next, a pair of mittens to fit hands
belonging with feet that could wear the stockings. I know there were
oranges and some kind of candy, too.

At last the stockings were all hung on a line extending along two
sides of the room, and Mrs. Livingston and Aunt Elise locked the room,
and being very tired, went to bed. The next morning, bright and early,
there was a great pattering of bare feet and a flitting of night-gowns
down the staircase, past the evergreen trees in the hall, and a little
host of twelve children stood at that door, trying to get in; but it
was all of no use, and they had to march back to bed again.

As for Otis Grey, he was a real Boston boy, full of the spirit of a
Liberty Rebel. He dressed himself slyly, slipped down on the great
stair-rail, so as to make no noise, opened softly the hall-door, went
outside, climbed up, and looked into the room. When he peeped, he was
so frightened at the long line of fat stockings that he made haste
down, and never said a word to anybody, except my grandmother (Lorinda
Grey, his sister); and they two kept the secret.

Breakfast time came, and not a child of the dozen had heard a word
from Santa Claus that morning.

Mrs. Livingston said a very long grace, and after that she said to the
children: "I have disappointed you this morning, but you will all have
your stockings as soon as a little company I have invited to spend the
day with you, is come."

"Bless me!" whispered Otis Grey to his sister, "are all them stockings
a-coming?"

"Otis," said Mrs. Livingston, "you may leave the table."

Otis obeyed silently, and lost his Christmas breakfast for the time.
Mrs. Livingston had strict laws in her house, and punishment always
followed disobedience.

The morning was long to the children, but it was a busy time in the
winter kitchen, and even the summer kitchen was alive with cookery;
and at just mid-day Philip cried out "Company's come, grandma!"

A dozen or more of the stocking-owners were at the door. In they
trooped, bright and laughing and happy. Before they were fairly
inside, more came, and more, and still more, until full sixty boys and
girls were gathered up and down the great hall and parlors. Mixie
Brownson came on the last sled-load. Now Mrs. Livingst