"Have you any brothers or sisters, Bertie?" "No'm," returned Bertie cheerfully. "I guess there's enough of us without that. I must be going now. I'm very much obliged to you." Edith slipped from the room as he spoke, and met him again at the door. She held out a pair of warm-looking mittens. "These are for William John," she said simply, "so that you can have your own. They are a pair of mine which are too big for me. I know Papa will say it is all right. Goodbye, Bertie." "Goodbye--and thank you," stammered Bertie, as the door closed. Then he hastened home to William John. That evening Doctor Forbes noticed a peculiarly thoughtful look on Edith's face as she sat gazing into the glowing coal fire after dinner. He laid his hand on her dark curls inquiringly. "What are you musing over?" "There was a little boy here today," began Edith. "Oh, such a dear little boy," broke in Amy eagerly from the corner, where she was playing with her kitten. "His name was Bertie Ross. He brought up the parcels, and we asked him in to get warm. He had no mittens, and his hands were almost frozen. And, oh, Papa, just think!--he said he never had any Christmas or New Year at all." "Poor little fellow!" said the doctor. "I've heard of him; a pretty hard time he has of it, I think." "He was so pretty, Papa. And Edie gave him her blue mittens for William John." "The plot deepens. Who is William John?" "Oh, a cousin or something, didn't he say Edie? Anyway, he is sick, and he wanted to go coasting, and Bertie gave him his mittens. And I suppose he never had any Christmas either." "There are plenty who haven't," said the doctor, taking up his paper with a sigh. "Well, girlies, you seem interested in this little fellow so, if you like, you may invite him and his cousin to take dinner with you on New Year's night." "Oh, Papa!" said Edith, her eyes shining like stars. The doctor laughed. "Write him a nice little note of invitation--you are the lady of the house, you know--and I'll see that he gets it tomorrow." And this was how it came to pass that Bertie received the next day his first invitation to dine out. He read the little note through three times in order fully to take in its contents, and then went around the rest of the day in deep abstraction as though he was trying to decide some very important question. It was with the same expression that he opened the door at home in the evening. His aunt was stirring some oatmeal mush on the stove. "Is that you, Bert?" She spoke sharply. She always spoke sharply, even when not intending it; it had grown to be a habit. "Yes'm," said Bertie meekly, as he hung up his cap. "I s'pose you've only got one day more at the store," said Mrs. Ross. "Sampson didn't say anything about keeping you longer, did he?" "No. He said he couldn't--I asked him." "Well, I didn't expect he would. You'll have a holiday on New Year's anyhow; whether you'll have anything to eat or not is a different question."