cy pavements, and finally halted in
front of Tim Nonesuch's toy shop. You should have seen _his_ show
windows! Beautiful English dolls at five dollars a-piece, dressed like
Queen Vic's babies, with such plump little shoulders and arms that one
longed to pinch 'em; and tea sets, and dinner sets, cunning enough, for
a fairy to keep house with. Then, there were dancing Jacks, and jumping
Jennys, and "Topsys," and "Uncle Toms" as black as the chimney back,
with wool made of a raveled black stocking. Then, there were little
work-boxes with gold thimbles and bodkins, and scissors in crimson
velvet cases, and snakes that squirmed so naturally as to make you hop
up on the table to get out of the way, and little innocent looking
boxes containing a little spry mouse, that jumped into your face as
soon as you raised the lid, and music boxes to place under your pillows
when you had drank too strong a cup of green tea, and vinaigrettes that
you could hold to your nose to keep you from fainting when you saw a
dandy. Oh! I can tell you that Mr. Nonesuch understood keeping a toy
shop; there were plenty of carriages always in front of it, plenty of
taper fingers pulling over his wares, and plenty of husbands and
fathers who returned thanks that New Year's didn't come _every_ day!

"Don't stay here, dear Susy, if it makes you cry," said the elder of
two little girls; "I thought you said it would make you happy to come
out and _look_ at the New Year's presents, though we couldn't _have_
any."

"I did think so," said Susy; "but it makes me think of last New Year's,
when you and I lay cuddled together in our little bed, and papa came
creeping up in his slippers, thinking we were asleep, and laid our
presents on the table, and then kissed us both, and said, 'God bless
the little darlings!' Oh! Katy--all the little girls in that shop have
their papa's with them. I want MY papa," and little Susy laid her head
on Katy's shoulder and sobbed as if her heart were breaking.

"Don't, dear Susy," said Katy, wiping away her own tears with her
little pinafore; "don't cry--mamma will see how red your eyes
are,--poor, sick, tired mamma,--don't cry, Susy."

"Oh, Katy, I can't help it. See that tall man with the black whiskers,
(don't he look like papa?) kissing that little girl. Oh! Katy," and
Susy's tears flowed afresh.

Uncle Jolly couldn't stand it any longer;--he rushed into the toy shop,
bought an armful of play-things helter-skelter, and ran af