Fortunately for every one, Cousin Josie blew in, and when she saw how things were going she made me go out for an hour, and said she'd stay with the children."

"It must be hard to manage so many," said Ruth who longed to help but didn't know how. "I'm sure I think you're awfully brave to be so cheerful all the time."

"Oh, but I'm not; I'm the most doleful thing you ever knew at home sometimes. And every little while I have to play baby and fuss it all out to some one. You happen to be the victim this time, but if it hadn't been you it would have been Mrs. Hamilton, or Betty."

Charlotte's voice quavered, and there was a long silence while she stared gloomily into the fire and Ruth searched her mind for something comforting to say. At last she said hesitatingly, "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"I know you do," answered Charlotte with a smile. "But you can't except just by understanding, and letting me tell my woes to you occasionally. After I've really been in the dumps I'm the most courageous thing you ever saw, and feel that I can accomplish wonders.

I suppose the reason I feel blue just now is because Christmas is so near."

"Christmas! Why, don't you just love Christmas?"

"Love it! I should say not. I usually hate it."

Ruth's eyes opened very wide as she stared at Charlotte. That any sane girl should hate Christmas was incomprehensible.

"Christmas won't seem the same to me this year," she said soberly, "but I love it and I'm going to have as good a time as I can. Why do you hate it, Charlotte?"

"Oh, for various reasons. Mother always seems sicker at this season, and father looks anxious and more tired. I always feel that he's trying to squeeze out a little more money to give us a good time, and doesn't see how he possibly can. As for me, I'm so hopelessly in debt to other people in the way of presents that I shall never swim out." Charlotte tried to speak lightly, but it was a dismal failure.

"I never felt about it in just that way,--I mean about being in debt to people. I dare say I've missed giving sometimes when I should have given, if that's the way of it. I love to choose and make presents for the people I'm fond of, and that's what Christmas means to me."

"Well, that's very lovely and quite the proper way to think of it, I know, but it wouldn't seem quite so easy to you if you didn't have any money to spend."

"Why not make things?" asked Ruth innocently.

Charlotte laughed. "Bless your heart, child, doesn't it cost money to buy materials? And I do all the sewing I can possibly make up my mind to in helping to keep the twins from falling out of their clothes. You never saw such holes."

There was a long silence while Charlotte lay still, apparently trying to go to sleep, and Ruth's forehead puckered itself into wrinkles as she wrestled with a weighty problem.

Suddenly Charlotte opened her eyes. "Look here, Ruth," she said bluntly, "I didn't mean to come over here and tell a tale of woe about not having any money, and I'm ashamed because I have. Please forget all about it."

"Oh, Charlotte," cried Ruth, dropping scissors, thimble and spool with a clatter as she got up from her chair. "Oh, Charlotte, I wish you would let me do something I want very much to do."

As she spoke Ruth threw herself on the couch beside Charlotte and put her arms about her. Charlotte, who was most undemonstrative, was vaguely comforted by the friendly embrace, and to her own surprise found herself returning it.

"Charlotte," pleaded Ruth, "I've really more money than I need for Christmas presents this year, for Uncle Jerry sent me a check to use just as I please. Now won't you let me give you your present now, and give it to you in money, so that you may have the fun of using it before Christmas? Oh, oh, don't you dare say a word yet if you can't say yes," she said fiercely, putting her hand over Charlotte's mouth, and in her anxiety pressing so hard that Charlotte gasped for breath.

"Don't you see what a pleasure you'd be giving me?" Ruth went on.

"I do so love to give people what they really want, and it's so hard to know. And there won't a soul know about it except us, and I'm dying to have a secret with some one."

Charlotte couldn't help laughing, Ruth's manner was so funny and anxious. "Thank you very much, Ruth, but I really couldn't," she said at last decidedly. "They wouldn't be my presents if I used your money for them; and besides, it makes me feel as though I'd no business to complain to you as I've done."

"Oh, Charlotte, they will be. It won't be my money, for I shall give it to you to use just as you please, and what's the good of having a friend if you don't tell her your troubles once in a while?"

Charlotte was silent and troubled, but she smiled a little at Ruth's mixed-up sentences. Ruth thought this was a good sign and rushed on without giving her a chance for a positive refusal.

"Don't you suppose I know how hard it is for a proud old thing like you to do it? But I'm just selfish enough to try to tease you into it because it's going to be such a favor to me. Do, Charlotte, that's a dear."

With Ruth's arms tightly around her, and Ruth's brown eyes looking at her with mischievous pleading, Charlotte found it difficult to be disappointing. "Well--" she said at last.

"You will!" cried Ruth in a tone of rapture. "Oh, Charlotte, you're a darling, and I'll do as much for you some day."

"I feel as though I'd been in a hold-up," murmured Charlotte, as Ruth released her after another violent squeeze, and went to her desk.

"I don't wonder," laughed Ruth coming back with an envelope in her hand. "Now, Charlotte, I don't want to hurry you, but your hour is up, and I think you'd better go. I have a premonition that the twins have fallen into something or other."

Charlotte rose lazily and held out her arms for the coat which Ruth was holding and into the pocket of which she had slipped the envelope. "You're a sly thing," she said. "You're afraid if I stay I'll go back on my bargain."

"Never," laughed Ruth. "You're not that kind. Can't you go into Boston with me to-morrow and do some shopping? It will be almost the last chance before Christmas."

"Why, yes. I think so. I'm almost sure I can." Charlotte started to go, but turned and gripped Ruth's hand. "You're a trump, Ruth, and you've helped me lots," she said with an effort, "but I must say I don't feel quite right about taking that money."

"Oh, but I do. I shall enjoy it more than any other present I'm giving. We'll have a great time to-morrow spending it."

Once out of the house Charlotte couldn't resist the temptation to take a peep at the contents of the envelope. As she caught a glimpse of a crisp five dollar bill her first impulse was to go immediately and make Ruth take it back. She half turned, and waited irresolutely until the cold sting of the rain forced her to realize that the middle of the street was no place for deciding a weighty question.

Then she went slowly toward home, uncomfortable because she had taken the money, happy because of the affection and sympathy Ruth had shown her.

At home a more cheerful atmosphere reigned, and Charlotte felt her spirits rise as she walked into the up-stairs sitting-room where the children were. "You're an angel of peace, Cousin Josie," said Charlotte gratefully. "I'll try to keep them happy until bedtime, though I'm no such genius at it as you are."

Charlotte felt so cheered and comforted that she thought of poor Melina, whose sorrows she had not yet investigated, and turned toward the kitchen. Melina was one of those rare maids-of-all-work whose services cannot be estimated, nor can they be paid for in mere money. Coming into the family when Charlotte was a small child, she had taken each successive baby into her heart, and had worked for them all as faithfully and lovingly as if they belonged to her.

As she walked into the room she was startled to find Melina rocking hard with her ap.r.o.n thrown over her face and audible sniffs going on behind it. The chair was making such a noise that at first she didn't hear Charlotte, and the latter had time to wonder whether it wouldn't be better to steal away softly and come in later. She knew she should hate to be found crying and she supposed Melina would. Before she could decide Melina threw down the ap.r.o.n and jumped up.

"Land, how you scared me," she said huskily. "I guess I was just having a kind of a little nap."

"Oh, was that it?" answered Charlotte. She felt the delicacy of the situation, and hated to pry into things that others didn't want her to know.

"Any cookies, Melina?" she continued carelessly. "I thought I'd take some up to the children. My, but these are good! Who was it in your family used to like them so much? Oh, I know, it was your nephew down in Maine. How is he now, Melina? Does he get any better?"

Melina's answer was so indistinct that Charlotte looked at her in amazement to see two great tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.

"Oh, Melina, is he worse, and is that what makes you feel so bad?"

she cried sympathetically.

"No, he ain't worse. If anything he's a little mite better."

"What is the matter then? Don't you want to tell me? Perhaps father or some of us could help."

Melina shook her head. "It's only that I ain't got quite enough money to make him the Christmas present I'd planned for him, and what's worse I've been fool enough to write him it was coming. It's one of those new-fangled beds so that he can be wheeled around, and the end raises so that he can sit up a little. He's counting on it so that I can't bear to disappoint him. All I need is five dollars, and I thought sure I should have it because some one owes me just that much. But I got a letter to-day saying she couldn't pay it until after the first of January, so there 'tis."

"If father was only home he could fix it ail right, but I'm afraid mother hasn't five dollars she could spare just now," said Charlotte doubtfully.

"If she had I wouldn't take it," answered Melina, whose business principles were founded on a rock. "Your father paid me up to yesterday, and it ain't time for me to have any more."

"Oh, Melina, wait!" cried Charlotte, and she flashed out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Melina to wonder what had come over the girl. She was back in a moment, hiding both hands behind her as she came into the kitchen. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and she was so different from the ordinarily languid Charlotte that Melina looked at her in astonishment.

"Melina," she said earnestly, "do you remember when I was a little girl and I used to beg you over and over again to say which hand you'd take? Now, please, please choose now."

Melina hesitated, but Charlotte's manner was so persuasive that she couldn't resist, and murmuring, "left hand nearest the heart,"

touched that one.