cision. With stubby forefinger
rigid, he shoved his plate a little closer to the turkey.

IV

The Log at Twilight

There was a straw-ride in the farm sleigh after dinner, a story or two
by the Yule log when the twilight closed in and Annie had lit the
Christmas candles on the tree, and then as the boys were romping in a
game of Roger's the Doctor slipped away to his study for a quiet hour
with a book. His lamp was barely lighted and the book upon his knee when
the door opened and Jim stood before him, his face so white and strained
that the Doctor laid aside his book, thinking instantly, of course, that
here again was too much turkey.

Jim hung his head, one toe burrowing in the carpet.

"Doctor John!" he burst forth hoarsely.

"Yes?"

Jim gulped.

"I--I been in _jail_!"

The Doctor looked once at Jim's face, quivering in an agony of shame,
and hastily wiped his glasses. In the quiet came the laughter of romping
boys.

"Why," said the Doctor very gently, "did you tell me?"

Something in the kindly voice opened the flood-gates of a boy's sore
heart. Jim's mouth quivered piteously, then he broke down and hid his
face behind his elbow, sobbing wildly.

"I wanta be square," he cried passionately, "I wanta be square like
you've been to us, an'--an Luke said ye might not want a jail-bird here
for Christmas. I--stole--coal--for mom--"

It was the old tale, one boy caught, paying for the petty thievery of
the score who ran away. The Doctor heard the mumbled tale to the end and
cleared his throat.

"And so," he said slowly, "you wanted to be square. That's the finest
thing I've heard this Christmas day. Wanted to be square. Well, well!"
His hand was on Jim's shoulder now. "Jim, I wonder if you could come
back to me next Christmas and tell me you'd been absolutely straight--"

"Here!" said Jim in a choking whisper, his eyes blazing through his
tears, "again--for _Christmas_!"

Somewhere on a snowy page a Christmas angel wrote: "One boy saved by the
spirit of a country Christmas!"

"Here," repeated the Doctor, "again--for Christmas." He opened the
door. "Run along, now, Jim," he said kindly, "or the boys will miss
you."

Jim's final words were very queer.

"Doctor John," he blurted, "I--I'm a goin' to send poor little Muggs."

The Doctor was devoutly hoping that Muggs had never been in jail for
stealing food or drums, when Muggs himself appeared clinging desperately
to the hand of Mike. He seeme