In the pretty room which belonged to Bess and Louise sat a busy group one afternoon. Its owners were occupied with a tall sc.r.a.p basket that was intended for Uncle William and Aunt Marcia. Aunt Zelie had donated the ribbons to trim it, and they were anxious to have it as handsome as possible. Helen and Carl were there too, the one making a bonnet for her doll, the other pasting in his sc.r.a.p-book, sitting on the floor with a newspaper spread out before him. Dora had received a warm welcome when she came in with her work, as she often did. They all agreed in thinking that she could not come too often, and to Dora life in that house was a sort of enchantment. It seemed brighter, roomier, pleasanter there than anywhere else.

Her young friends did not dream of the cares already resting on her shoulders: the effort to cheer her mother, who was fast becoming an invalid, the life in the large boarding-house that neither of them liked.

"Do you think it will be pretty?" Bess asked, holding her basket at arm's length to see the effect of the golden-brown ribbon she was weaving in and out through the straw.

"It is a beauty," answered Dora admiringly.

"Yes, it _is_ pretty, really," said Louise, whose fingers were trying to fashion what she called a stylish bow.

"Girls are funny, always sticking bows on things," observed Carl.

"If it is funny to like to make things look pretty, I am glad I am funny," said Dora severely.

"Dear me! Of course, I was not objecting in the least," replied the young gentleman, who rather enjoyed being taken to task by Dora.

"I am sorry to break up this pleasant party, but I am afraid I must,"

Aunt Zelie said, coming in.

"Why, Auntie?" asked Louise, looking up with three little wrinkles between her eyes, for the stylish bow would not be quite as she wanted it.

"Because I am in danger of losing my roses," answered her aunt, pinching Bess's cheek. "Yesterday they had no fresh air worth mentioning."

"Oh, please don't make us go!" cried Bess in a tone that was almost a wail. "We have so much to do!"

"I must finish my bow," Louise said positively.

"I shall not _make_ you, but Joanna is going to Aunt Marcia's with a note, and I want you to go too because you need the air. I am sure Dora will take the walk with you, and on the way back suppose you stop and ask Mrs. Warner to let her stay to dinner. So fly now and get ready." She spoke so energetically that Dora began at once to roll up her work, and Bess dropped her scissors with a sigh of relief, but Louise held on to her bow desperately.

"I _will_ finish it," she said to herself.

"Louise," her aunt said gently, "the reason you cannot make the bow to please you is because you are tired. Now, which will you do, put it away till to-morrow--when I am sure you will not have any trouble with it--and go to walk with the others, or stay here and grow more and more tired and cross, till you are not fit to come to dinner with the rest of us?"

She had a struggle with herself before she answered in a choked voice, "I guess I'll go, but I did want to finish it."

"Of course, but you will be glad by and by that you chose to do what was right, instead of what you wanted to do," and Aunt Zelie sent her off with a kiss.

The walk to Aunt Marcia's was not such a hardship after all, and when they reached home there was at least an hour for studying lessons before dinner, and that was followed by a grand frolic with Carie, lasting till it was time for Dora to go.

"I am sorry I was cross this afternoon," Louise said when she came for her good-night kiss.

"It was because you were tired, dear, I know. You and Bess must take care not to be too much occupied with Christmas. It will not do to neglect every-day duties even for that," replied her aunt.

CHAPTER XII.

CEDAR AND HOLLY.

One Sat.u.r.day afternoon, about three weeks before Christmas, the boys marched triumphantly into Miss Brown's sitting-room with a large tissue-paper parcel. When this was undone, before the eager eyes of the M.Ks., there were four beautiful fragrant little baskets with tops of bright-colored silk.

"How pretty!"--"How lovely!"--"Where did you get them?"--"Surely you did not make them?"--"What are you going to do with them?"

"Why didn't we make them, I'd like to know?" asked Ikey proudly.

Certainly the boys had reason to be satisfied at the praise their work received.

"I know you did not sew on the silk," said Dora, examining one closely.

"Oh, well, Aunt Zelie and Cousin Helen did the sewing, of course, but we did all the rest," said Carl.

"And what do you mean to do with them?" asked Elsie.

"Sell them and give the money to the harp man."

They were so pretty there proved to be no trouble in disposing of them. Aunt Marcia, who was superintending a Christmas bazaar, offered to put them on one of her tables, where they sold the first evening for a dollar and a half apiece.

After this the meetings of the G.N. club had to give way to rehearsals for what Cousin Helen called "The Harp Man's Benefit," which was to occur on New Year's eve. In the meantime Uncle William had interested himself in the matter, and, through a friend who was a music dealer, a harp was lent to Mr. Finnelli till his own could be repaired.

"So we feel more comfortable about it now," said Louise, "and we think we'll make at least ten dollars at our entertainment."

Late in the afternoon of the day before Christmas Aunt Zelie sat alone in the library taking a moment's rest.

The sound of happy voices came through the open door. It was a custom in the family to decorate the hall on Christmas eve, and the children had been making wreaths and festoons of cedar, and having any amount of fun. They were now having a merry time over Ikey's suggestion to hang a holly wreath above the Big Front Door. From the top of the ladder Carl began:

"'Twas the night before Christmas,"

and the others chimed in:

"and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

A moment later Aunt Zelie's quiet was invaded.

"Nothing makes me feel more like Christmas than that old rhyme," she said, as the laughing children gathered around her.

"Talk to us about Christmas, Auntie, please," said Louise.

"Could you possibly talk about anything else?" she asked. "What is it that makes this such a happy time?"

"Why," answered Carl, "it is because it is such fun to give presents to people, and know you are sure to get a lot yourself."

"Yes, it is because every one tries to make some one else happy. Why do we keep Christ's birthday in this way?"

"Because he came to make us happy, I suppose," said Bess.

"Don't you wish you could have heard the angels sing? I like that part of the story best where the shepherds are out in the fields," said Louise.

"I like the wise men seeing the star and bringing gifts," said Carl.