Bennie thought she was beautiful and watched her admiringly as she moved among her pupils, sharing their joy and occasionally trying to repress their wild spirits. Johnnie and Jakie and Tommie again, and Susie and Katie and Anne, but no Bennie Hewitt; he had been forgotten; there was nothing for him, and with a choking, gasping sensation he stood, holding fast to the pew railing in front of him, while the grand old anthem Glory to God on High, rang through the church, and the final prayer was said. But the music and the prayer were nothing to him now; faith in Bethlehem’s baby was gone, and his little heart was as empty of happiness as the tall tree was of gifts, and as full of bitter disappointment as the church was of people, all moving out and crowding him as they went. Maggie had been near the chancel with Miss Morgan’s class, and when at last she came there were few left in the church, and these were gathered about the rector, near the tree. “Oh, Ben, see what I’ve got; a bran-new gown,” Maggie said, as she caught sight of her brother. At the sound of her voice Bennie’s pent-up grief gave way, and a low, piteous, wailing cry reached the ear of Nellie Morgan, who, in a moment was at Bennie’s side asking what was the matter. “Everybody got somethin’ but me, and I never had a darned thing. I thought the baby in the stable would bring me suthin’; I asked him this mornin’ would he.” This was the sobbing reply of the little ragged boy who cried as if his heart would break, while Nellie tried to comfort him. In the multiplicity of her cares she had forgotten him, and she felt so grieved and sorry, until an idea struck her. There were a few whispered words to Wallie, whose hands were full, and then turning to Bennie, she asked what he wanted most. “Some lines and some shoes,” he said, and glancing at his thin, worn boots, Nellie replied, “Poor boy, you do need shoes, and you shall have them to-morrow, while the lines,—” she turned appealingly to Wallie, who, after a momentary struggle, laid the lines in her hand. “Yes,” she continued, “you shall have the lines to-night. Wallie gives them to you, and is sorry for the naughty words he said to you the other day. Now, shake hands and be friends with him.” Such generosity and self-denial were more than Bennie could comprehend, and he stood staring blankly at Wallie, while his lip quivered and the tears rained down his cheek. “Git out! Yer only foolin’,” he said, while the glimmer of a smile showed round his mouth. Wallie had felt like crying himself, but at the sight of tears in another he assumed a show of manliness and answered, “No, I ain’t foolin’. I want you to have ’em. Auntie can knit me some more. They are three yards long. Look!” and with a swift movement he threw them across Ben’s neck, exclaiming, “Get up there! Go ’long!”