Hale demurely sat down, and the doctor ponderously departed, sighing regretfully as he went through the room, as if disappointed that the whole thirty were not lying at death's door. But on the threshold he turned about, exclaimed, "Good night, boys! God bless you!" and vanished as precipitately as if a trapdoor had swallowed him up.
Miss Hale was a perverse woman in some things; for instead of folding her tired hands, she took a rusty-covered volume from the mantelpiece, and sitting by Joe's bed, began to read aloud. One by one all other sounds grew still; one by one the men composed themselves to listen; and one by one the words of the sweet old Christmas story came to them as the woman's quiet voice went reading on. lf any wounded spirit needed balm, if any hungry heart asked food, if any upright purpose, newborn aspiration, or sincere repentance wavered for want of human strength, all found help, hope, and consolation in the beautiful and blessed influences of the book, the reader, and the hour.
The bells rung nine, the lights grew dim, the day's work was done; but Miss Hale lingered beside Joe's bed. His face wore a wistful look, and he seemed loath to have her go.
"What is it, dear?" she said. "What can I do for you before I leave you to Ben's care?"
He drew her nearer, and whispered earnestly:
"It's something that I know you'll do for me, because I can't do it for myself, not as I want it done, and you can. I'm going pretty fast now, Ma'am. And when—when someone else is lying here, I want you to tell the boys—everyone, from Ben to Barney—how much I thanked 'em, how much I loved 'em, and how glad I was that I had known 'em, even for such a little while."
"Yes, Joe, I'll tell them all. What else can I do, my boy?"
"Only let me say to you what no one else must say for me, that all I want to live for is to try and do something in my poor way to show you how I thank you, Ma'am. It isn't what you've said to me; it isn't what you've done for me alone that makes me grateful. It's because you've taught me many things without knowing it, showed me what I ought to have been before, if I'd had anyone to tell me how, and made this such a happy, homelike place, I shall be sorry when I have to go."
Poor Joe! It must have fared hardly with him all those twenty years, if a hospital seemed homelike and a little sympathy, a little care, could fill him with such earnest gratitude. He stopped a moment to lay his cheek upon the hand he held in both of his, then hurried on as if he felt his breath beginning to give out:
"I dare say many boys have said this to you, Ma'am, better than I can, because I don't say half I feel. But I know that none of 'em ever thanked you as I thank you in my heart, or ever loved you as I'll love you all my life. Today I hadn't anything to give you, I'm so poor; but I wanted to tell you this, on the last Christmas I shall ever see."
It was a very humble kiss he gave that hand, but the fervor of a first love warmed it, and the sincerity of a great gratitude made it both a precious and pathetic gift to one who, half unconsciously, had made this brief and barren life rich and happy at its close. Always womanly and tender, Miss Hale's face was doubly so as she leaned over him, whispering:
"I have had my present, now. Good night, Joe."
What Polly Found in Her Stocking
With the first pale glimmer,
Of the morning red,
Polly woke delighted
And flew out of bed.
Out the door she hurried,
Never stopped for clothes,
Though Jack Frost's cold fingers
Nipped her little toes.
There it hung! The stocking,
Long and blue and full;
Down it quickly tumbled
With a hasty pull.
Back she capered, laughing,
Happy little Polly;
For from out the stocking
Stared a splendid dolly!
Next, what most she wanted,
In a golden nut,
With a shining thimble,
Scissors that would cut;
Then a book all pictures,
"Children in the Wood."
And some scarlet mittens
Like her scarlet hood.
Next a charming jump rope,
New and white and strong;
(Little Polly's stocking
Though small was very long,)
In the heel she fumbled,
"Something soft and warm,"
A rainbow ball of worsted
Which could do no harm.
In the foot came bonbons,
In the toe a ring,
And some seeds of mignonette
Ready for the spring.
There she sat at daylight
Hugging close dear dolly;
Eating, looking, laughing,
Happy little Polly!
Rosa's Tale
"Now, I believe everyone has had a Christmas present and a good time. Nobody has been forgotten, not even the cat," said Mrs. Ward to her daughter, as she looked at Pobbylinda, purring on the rug, with a new ribbon round her neck and the remains of a chicken bone between her paws.
It was very late, for the Christmas tree was decorated, the little folks in bed, the baskets and bundles left at poor neighbors' doors, and everything ready for the happy day which would begin as the clock struck twelve. They were resting after their mother's words reminded Belinda of one good friend who had received no gift that night.
"We've forgotten Rosa! Her mistress is away, but she shall have a present nevertheless. As late as it is, I know she would like some apples and cake and a Merry Christmas from the family."
Belinda jumped up as she spoke, and having collected such remnants of the feast as a horse would relish, she put on her hood, lighted a lantern, and trotted off to the barn to deliver her Christmas cheer.
As she opened the door of the loose box in which Rosa was kept, Belinda saw Rosa's eyes shining in the dark as she lifted her head with a startled air. Then, recognizing a friend, the horse rose and came rustling through the straw to greet her late visitor. She was evidently much pleased with the attention and gratefully rubbed her nose against Miss Belinda. At the same time, she poked her nose suspiciously into the contents of the basket.
Miss
