"Wait!" Captain Dillingham put up his hand. "We haven't finished with this matter yet. You've got your tree from your mother; now I can give you a turkey if you decide you want me to. But first you are to listen to what I have to say. A Christmas tree and a turkey mean a great deal for one family to have in these days when so many people are having so little. The O'Dowds, for example, are to have neither a Christmas dinner nor a tree; I happen to know that. Joey has been sick and there are doctor's bills to pay. Beside that, Mr. O'Dowd has been out of work and has no money to spend this year." The little McGregors regarded their uncle with solemn faces. "Oh, dear!" breathed Mary sympathetically. Carl scowled soberly; then his face glowed with a sudden idea. "Couldn't we----" he hesitated awkwardly. "Oh, Uncle Frederick, if you _were_ really going to buy a turkey, couldn't we give it to them?" flashed Mary, smiling toward her brother. "Would you mind giving it away to somebody else? You see, if you were going to buy it anyway----" she regarded her uncle timidly, "we could have something else for dinner, couldn't we, Mother? Perhaps corn chowder. We all like that. And maybe we could have a pudding and some nuts." "Bully, Mary! I'm with you!" Carl rejoined. "I'd like to do that, too," agreed Martin. "I wouldn't mind so much about the turkey if we had the tree." "What do you say, Tim?" inquired Captain Dillingham. "I don't see why we should give our turkey to somebody else," grumbled Tim sullenly. "We never have one all the year--never! You know we don't, Mother." "No, dear; I'm afraid we don't," Mrs. McGregor said. "Then why should we give ours away," went on Tim in an argumentative tone. "Don't we want turkey as much as the O'Dowds, I'd like to know?" "Oh, Timmie!" "Don't be such a pig, Tim," cut in Carl with brotherly directness. "If we were hard up, wouldn't you like somebody to send you something for Christmas?" Tim colored, his brother's question bringing home to him uncomfortable possibilities. "We could have such fun doing it, Timmie," coaxed Mary. "Think how we could trim up the basket, and what a surprise it would be! Why, it would make no end of sport." Tim's expression softened. Instantly Mrs. McGregor, who was quick to interpret her children's moods, saw the battle was won. "We can plan together what shall go into the basket," said she briskly. "Each of us might contribute the thing he likes best." "The turkey shall be mine!" Uncle Frederick declared. "I choose cranberry sauce!" Carl announced. "Celery! Oh, could I put in celery, Mother?" Mary inquired. "The tops are so pretty and I love it so!" Her mother nodded. "Somebody must give the plain things so I will donate potatoes, squash, and onions," she said. "Don't forget nuts! We must have nuts and raisins," Mary added. "I'd like to give those," Tim whispered. "You shall, son." A friendly little glance passed between the boy and his mother.