our
mother made."

"It's pokey over there! But I'll humor you, because it is Christmas,"
laughed Annie.

So they dodged under elbows, and slipped between young men and their
sweethearts, until they reached the other end of the room, where Debby
admired pen-holders with spiders and mice on them, cushions representing
the old lady who lived in a shoe, and needle-books made like
wheelbarrows, wondering if there had been anything at the Centennial
more beautiful than these. But when a group of girls claimed Annie's
attention, she eagerly seized the opportunity to slip away and sit on
the bench behind Mrs. Williams's table.

"Tired so soon?" inquired Mrs. Williams, kindly. "But why didn't your
mother come?"

"She didn't have--I don't mean--I mean she didn't speak of coming,"
stammered Debby, with burning cheeks.

"Never mind," replied Mrs. Williams, "you will have a good time, I know;
and you must be sure to ride home with us."

Soothed by her sympathetic words, Debby almost forgot her troubles, and
sat watching the moving picture with great amusement, until she espied
her brothers helping Mr. Williams pass the saucers of cream.

"Oh, I hope they wont be tempted to _take_ any," she thought, her heart
full of a wordless prayer for them. But her anxiety was soon relieved by
seeing Sam forcing his way toward her with a plate of cream.

"He gave it to me for helping," he whispered; "but you take it. Jim ate
his right up."

"Eat it yourself, Sammy," she said, drawing back the hand she had
stretched out for it. "I don't care so _very_ much about it, because I
am older, you know."

"Don't you, now, 'truly, truly, black and bluely, lay me down and cut me
in twoly?'" he asked, with the air of a magistrate about to "swear" a
witness.

"I would very much rather you should eat it," evaded Debby.

"Then I will," he answered, brightly, "for I _do_ want it awfully."

"Eat it, then; but don't be tempted to take any," she cautioned.

"Catch me taking--I'm not a thief!" and he hastened away.

Debby was thirteen years old, but she could have cried for that
ice-cream.

"Oh, _here_ you are at last!" cried Annie, running up to her a few
minutes afterward. "I couldn't imagine where you had got to. Now, just
read my letter," placing a tiny sheet of pink paper in her hand. "That
box all trimmed up at the end of the candy-table is the post-office,"
she explained, "and we give them five cents and ask for a letter. Just
read mine.