"But things don't happen just so. They happen--don't anybody know how, I guess." Carmencita nodded at the stars. "I've prayed a good many times before and nothing happened, and I don't know why all this beautifulness should have come to me, and Mrs. Beckwith, who is good as gold, though a poor manager with babies, shouldn't ever have any luck. I don't understand, but I'm awful thankful. I wish I could let G.o.d know, and the Christ-child know, how thankful I am. Maybe the way they'd like me to tell is by doing something nice for somebody else. I know. I'll ask Miss Parker to supper Christmas night. She's an awful poky person and needs new teeth, but she says she's so sick of mending pants, she wishes some days she was dead. And I'll ask the Damanarkist. He hasn't anywhere to go, and he hates rich people so it's ruined his stomach. Hate is an awful ruiner."

For some moments longer Carmencita sat in huddled silence, then presently she spoke again.

"I didn't intend to give Miss Cattie Burns anything. I've tried to like Miss Cattie and I can't. But it was very good in her to send us a quarter of a cord of wood for a Christmas present. She can't help being practical. I'll take her that red geranium to-morrow. I raised it from a slip, and I hate to see it go, but it's all I've got to give. It will have to go.

"And to-morrow. I mean to-day--this is Christmas day! Oh, a happy Christmas, everybody!" Carmencita's arms swung out, then circled swiftly back to her heart. "For everybody in all the world I'd make it happy if I could! And I'm going to a wedding to-day--a wedding! I don't wonder you're thrilly, Carmencita Bell!"

For a half-moment breath came quiveringly from the parted lips, then again at the window and the stars beyond the little head nodded.

"But I'll never wonder at things happening any more. I'll just wonder at there being so many nice people on this earth. All are not nice.

The Damanarkist says there is a lot of rot in them, a lot of meanness and cheatingness, and nasty people who don't want other people to do well or to get in their way; but there's bound to be more niceness than nastiness, or the world couldn't go on. It couldn't without a lot of love. It takes a lot of love to stand life. I read that in a book.

Maybe that's why we have Christmas--why the Christ-child came."

Shyly the curly head was bent on the upraised knees, and the palms of two little hands were uplifted. "O G.o.d, all I've got to give is love.

Help me never to forget, and put a lot in my heart so I'll always have it ready. And I thank You and thank You for letting such grand things happen. I didn't dream there'd really be a marriage when I asked You please to let it be if you could manage it; but there's going to be two, and I'm going to both. I've got a new dress to wear, and slippers with buckles, and amber beads, and lots of other things.

And most of all I thank You for Mr. Van and Miss Frances finding each other. And please don't let them ever lose each other again. They might, even if they are married, if they don't take care. Please help them to take care, for Christ's sake. Amen."

On her feet, Carmencita patted the stocking hanging from the mantel, took off the big coat, kicked the large, loose slippers across the room, blew out the candle, and stood for a moment poised on the tip of her toes.

"If I could"--the words came breathlessly--"if I could I'd dance like the lady I was named for, but it might wake Father. I mustn't wake Father. Good night, everybody--and a merry Christmas to all this nice, big world!"

With a spring that carried her across the room Carmencita was on her cot and beneath its covering, which she drew up to her face. Under her breath she laughed joyously, and her arms were hugged to her heart.

"To-morrow--I mean to-day--I am going to tell them. They don't understand yet. They think it was just an accident." She shook her head. "It wasn't an accident. After they're married I'm going to tell them. Tell them how it happened."

THE END