"No; I only had two—a work-basket from mother, and a story-book from Miss Tompkins. But it was a lovely Christmas! Mother and I were so happy together! On Christmas Eve, it was fine, and we went out and had a good look at the shops. We enjoyed seeing all the pretty things, and thinking what we would buy, if we were rich. We spent Christmas Day quite by ourselves. In the morning, we went to the service at a little mission church where father used to preach sometimes—the people who go there are mostly poor people, some of them so poor that they wouldn't like to go and sit with those who are well-dressed. And in the afternoon, after dinner, we sat by the fire and talked, and never, never dreamed that we should be so far apart from each other when Christmas came again." And Mavis heaved a deep sigh. "Oh, you mustn't get sad," said Rose, earnestly. "I'm sure your mother wouldn't like you to be that. We want you to have a very happy Christmas. We shall break up at school about the twentieth of December, and then we shall be very busy at home, making mincemeat and puddings, and preparing our Christmas presents." The time had arrived now when Mavis might expect her mother's first letter from Sydney. It was delivered one afternoon whilst she was at school, and given to her immediately on her return. She ran upstairs to her bedroom to enjoy it undisturbed, and her heart throbbed with happiness as she read that her mother was well, and that Miss Dawson was continuing to improve in health. "You are constantly in my thoughts and prayers, little daughter," Mrs. Grey had written, "and ever in my heart. God bless and keep you, my darling child. I enclose a money-order for a pound, for you to spend as you like; doubtless you will find it useful at Christmas." "Oh, how nice!" exclaimed Mavis, delighted beyond measure. "Now I shall be able to give presents to every one! A whole pound! I never had more than half a crown in my life before!" She finished reading her mother's letter, then went back to the beginning, and read it right through to the end again before she looked into the envelope for the money-order. There it was safe enough, and a half-sheet of notepaper, on which were written a few lines in an unfamiliar handwriting— "DEAR LITTLE MAVIS," "This is to wish you a very happy Christmas. I am really better, and I believe God is going to allow me to get well. Often I have been very low-spirited and sad since we left England, but when I have thought of the Good Shepherd, of whom you sang to me so sweetly, I have felt better. 'The Lord is only my support,' dear Mavis, and I am learning to trust in Him more and more. Your mother is so good to me, so patient, so kind; we have become great friends."