probably snow flurries,"
and he jumped to the window.

Heavy, feathery flakes were swirling earthward with the vagaries of the
air currents. Here they eddied out from between the houses to disappear
on the shining black macadam of the street and sidewalks, there they
gave a momentary touch of white to the brown, frost-bitten lawns as a
prophecy of that which was yet to come. In front of the Alfords',
Silvey, Perry, and Sid, danced back and forth with shouts of laughter as
they tried to catch the elusive bits of white. He would have joined
them, but an ache in his stomach told that dinner was near, so he
returned from his vantage point with a cry of "Mother! Mother! Mother!
It's getting Christmasier every minute!"

Nor did the Spirit of the Holidays allow his interest to lessen during
the days when the advertisements lost their fascination through
monotonous repetition. As he and Bill ran home at noon one day, a
quartette of men with bulging, gray denim bags on their shoulders, left
big yellow envelopes on each and every house porch of the street. They
were rigidly impartial in their work, and John dashed up the steps of
that same vacant house which the boys had held that day with the pea
shooters.

"Look!" he cried, drawing the gaudy pamphlet from the manila casing.
"It's the _Toy Book_, Silvey!"

The _Toy Book_ had been issued since time immemorial by one of the down
town stores, and its yearly visit made it something of an institution
among the juveniles of the street. On the cover, a red-coated,
rosy-cheeked Saint Nick, with a toy-filled pack, was descending a
snow-capped chimney while his reindeer cavorted in the background. On
the back were rows of dainty pink, blue, and green clad dolls with
flaxen ringlets and staring, china eyes--trash which interested John not
at all. Why didn't they put engines and sleds and worth-while things
there?

"Come on, Bill," he said suddenly. "Let's collect 'em."

They waited until the distributors were too far down the street to
interfere, and sneaked up and down the house steps with careful
thoroughness. As the bundles under the two boyish arms were becoming
heavy, Mrs. Fletcher darted out by the lamppost in front of the house
and beckoned to John vigorously. He left Bill with a show of regret, for
the dozen odd copies under his arm were far less than he would have
liked.

Louise sauntered home with him after school that day. As they passed
Southern Avenue, the lady's gaz