the door between the dining-room—that was the sitting-room too—and the back parlor, and then how they did work!

Plenty of wood and shavings and kindlings were lying in front of the great Franklin stove in the dining-room, and there was quickly a blazing fire there, and in the kitchen too, and Mid insisted on lighting every lamp and candle he could lay his hands on.

Then the bundles came open, and their contents began to shine all around the chimney and over the mantel, and even on some of the chairs.

"It's too bad we haven't any of their stockings," began Aunt Sally; but she exclaimed, the next instant: "Oh, Frank! here's Maria's work-basket, all full of stockings. I know them. Those are Don's. There's a pair of Rad's. Molly's. Petish. Berry's—the dear little kitten! We've got 'em."

"Mother, let's set the table."

"That's it. You help him do it, father. Won't we give 'em a surprise!"

It was wonderful how those three did work, and not make any noise about it, and how they did change the looks of that dining-room and kitchen before five o'clock. Aunt Sally even put on the tea-kettle, and made some coffee, and it was evident that for once Santa Claus was disposed to be very much "at home."

If they had not been drinking their coffee, perhaps they might have heard a voice, not many minutes after five o'clock, whispering anxiously to somebody in the back parlor, "I say, there's a light coming through the key-hole!"

"There's a rattle, too, in there."

"Burglars?"

"Pooh! No; it's Christmas."

"Oh, boys, is Santa Claus really in there? Has he got here?"

"Is that you, Petish? And Molly too? Keep still. I'm just going to open the door a little mite of a crack, but you can all peek in."

Aunt Sally's ears must have been good ones, for, carefully as Don opened that door, and faint as was the squeak it made, she sprang suddenly toward it.

"Is that you, Maria? Hush! Don't make a sound. Not a loud noise for anything!"

"We won't, Aunt Sally. Hush-sh-sh!"

Even Petish did just as she was told for once, for she was a little scared when the great blaze of light came shining through the door as Aunt Sally pushed it wide open.

It was shut again the moment they were all in the room, and then it was all Aunt Sally and Uncle Frank could do to keep up any kind of silence in that merry assembly. They could not have done it at all if Aunt Sally had not told them all: "It's a great secret. You must help us give papa and mamma a big surprise. Now let's get breakfast for them."

"Biddy went away yesterday morning," said Molly, "but I know where the eggs are."

Whatever she and Petish could not find, Don and Rad could, and Aunt Sally was the best kind of a cook.

It was nearly six o'clock when Mrs. Burnell said to her husband: "I'm glad Berry waked up. She's all dressed now, and I can wrap her up warm."

"So am I, my dear. I'll go right down with you."

"Those poor children! I haven't the heart to look at them. Let's hurry down."

So they did, and Berry went down in her mother's arms, but they little dreamed what was coming.

A great shout welcomed them as they opened the door of the dining-room.

"Wish you Merry Christmas."

"Oh, Sally! Frank! I am so glad! But how did you get in?"

"Breakfast's ready."

"Christmas has come."

Nobody could have described that next half-hour to have saved his life, and Aunt Sally said she had never been so happy in all hers.

"Molly," said Petish, "won't you go up stairs and bring down all our clothes?"

"Yes, children," said their mother, "you must get dressed."

"Yes; and, mother," said Petish, "there was only two pairs of my stockings in the basket, and they're both full. If Molly'll bring the pair I had on, there's more'n enough to fill 'em."

So there was, for Aunt Sally had not only bought and brought everything Mr. and Mrs. Burnell had written to her about, but she had heaped on a huge assortment of presents on her own account, and Petish had at least her share, while Uncle Frank had looked out for Molly, and nobody had forgotten Berry or any of the boys.

It was quite the usual time when they got ready to eat at last, but there was nothing of what Rad and Petish called a "dispoint" in any face at that breakfast table.

Santa Claus had come.

[Begun in Young People No. 58, December 7.]

MILDRED'S BARGAIN.

A Story for Girls.

BY MRS. JOHN LILLIE.

Chapter III.

Milly's heart gave a bound, and then seemed to stand still.

"Here I am," said the woman, smiling. "I've called to make you even a better offer. You pay me fifty cents a week for that dress, and any week you can't pay, why, you can return the silk, provided it's decently clean, and I'll allow you a couple o' dollars, when I take it back, for the making. Come, now, I don't mind throwing in the linings, and I won't bother you for the first fortnight."

Now, as you have seen, Milly had gone through just the process of reasoning to make the peddler's words sound most alluring. The woman read in the young girl's face an instant's doubt followed by decision, and as quickly as possible she produced from her bag the roll of gray silk. Mildred never quite remembered how she made that purchase, or rather that bargain, for honorable purchase it certainly was not. The shining silk and the linings were put into her hands, and before she knew it she had signed a paper, a copy of which the peddler gave her. The transaction only occupied a few moments. Milly tucked the silk away in the room devoted to the bonnets and cloaks and luncheons of the sales-women, and was in her place before she fully realized that her longing of the day previous was granted. The morning passed heavily, and she was well pleased when it came her turn to take thirty minutes for lunch. But on entering the cloak-room her dismay was unbounded. Three or four of the shop-girls were clustered about Mildred's precious parcel, and a chorus of voices greeted her entrance.

"Look here, Miss Lee. Whose do you suppose this is?"

"Well, isn't this lovely?"

"Could any one have stolen it?"

"No," said Mildred, quietly, yet not without a flush on her cheeks. "It is mine. The—person I bought it of brought it here to me to-day."