Dorian warmed to their sociability and their clatter. He learned from them that their Christmas this year would likely be somewhat of a failure. Daddy was sick. There was no Christmas tree, and they doubted Santa Claus' ability to find his way up in the mountains in the storm. This was the first winter they had been here. Always they had been in town during the holidays, where it was easy for Santa to reach them; but now--the little girl plainly choked back the tears of disappointment. "Why, if it's a Christmas tree you want," said Dorian, "that ought to be easy. There are plenty up on the nearby hills." "Yes; but neither papa nor mama nor we can get them." "But I can." "Oh, will you? Tomorrow?" "Yes; tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We'll have to have it then." The children were dancing with glee as the mother came in and learned what had been going on. "You mustn't bother the gentleman," she admonished, but Dorian pleaded for the pleasure of doing something for them. The mother explained that because of unforeseen difficulties the children were doomed to disappointment this holiday season, and they would have to be satisfied with what scanty preparation could be made. "I think I can help," suggested the young man, patting the littlest confiding fellow on the head. "We cannot go on until tomorrow, I understand, and I should very much like to be useful." The big pleading eyes of the children won the day. They moved into the kitchen. All the corners were ransacked for colored paper and cloth, and with scissors and flour paste, many fantastic decorations were made to hang on the tree. Corn was popped and strung into long white chains. But what was to be done for candles? Could Dorian make candles? He could do most everything, couldn't he? He would try. Had they some parafine, used to seal preserve jars. Oh, yes, large pieces were found. And this with some string was soon made into some very possible candles. The children were intensely interested, and even the mail-driver wondered at the young man's cleverness. They had never seen anything like this before. The tree and its trimmings had always been bought ready for their use. Now they learned, which their parents should have known long ago, that there is greater joy in the making of a plaything than in the possession of it. The question of candy seemed to bother them all. Their last hopes went when there was not a box of candy in the postman's bag. What should they do for candy and nuts and oranges and-- "Can you make candy?" asked the girl of Dorian as if she was aware she was asking the miraculous. "Now children," warned the happy mother. "You have your hands full" she said to Dorian. "There's no limit to their demands." Dorian assured her that the greater pleasure was his. "Tomorrow," he told the clammering children, "we'll see what we can do about the candy." "Chocolates?" asked one. "Caramels," chose another. "Fudge," suggested the third.