st!" cried Molly Johns, as she took a last
peep out of the window on the evening before the "sleigh-ride day," as
it was ever after designated.

"Oh! it will last, lassie," answered father Johns, cheerily. "Get you
to bed, my child, and to sleep, if you can. What honors have we come
to, in our humble Side Street! and all because of a little kindness in
the first place. Here are mother and you to go sleighing in a grand
equipage, with feathers flying and a mortal-proud coachy on the front
seat, heading a procession of the wildest, happiest youngsters in the
world. Get you to bed, daughter, without a fear. Do you suppose the
dear Lord will let anything arise to prevent the joy He has planned
for the morrow? No, indeed."

Nothing did arise. At twelve o'clock precisely, because that was the
warmest, sunniest hour of the day, the big, big sleigh which had to be
drawn by eight gray horses, it was so long and awkward, drew into
place in Newspaper Square. There were other sleighs, too, and every
one was heaped with robes and blankets; so that the little half-clad
youngsters who were to ride in them should be well protected from the
cold. There were horns and trumpets--"What is a ride without a
trumpet?" demanded reporter Graham, who provided the rackety
things--and bells and baskets of sandwiches, "just to keep one
contented till the great dinner came on."

So they started, and old Jefferson forgot to be a trifle haughty, as
he realized that he was the leader of that happy, happy procession. Be
sure he led them a lovely road all about the charming park, and then
far beyond, into the open country, where the boys begged to be tumbled
out into a snow-drift for a regular pitched battle.

The halt was made, for who could refuse such a petition from a lad on
his first sleigh-ride? And for as long as the careful drivers would
permit their horses to stand, the snowballs flew through the air, and
the countryside was made to ring with the wild sport and laughter. All
this but aided appetite; and when at last the ride ended in astonished
Side Street, before the doorway of the boarding mistress, every
newsboy was so hungry he declared he "could eat his hat."

"Well, you won't have to!" cried somebody.

There was Doctor Frank, as sure as could be! He wasn't to be left out
of any such good times if he could help it. It was he, with Mr.
Graham, who marshalled the lads into something like order and planted
them all over the boarding mis