"I’ve planned lots of ways; only you mustn’t laugh at them, and you must n’t say a word to mother. I want it to be all a surprise." "She ’ll find us out." "No, she won’t, if we tell her we won’t get into mischief." "Fire away, then, and let’s hear your fine plans." "We must talk softly, or we shall wake father. He’s got a headache." A curious change came over the faces of the two boys as their sister lowered her voice, with a nod toward a half-opened door. They looked sad and ashamed, and Kitty sighed as she spoke, for all knew that father’s headaches always began by his coming home stupid or cross, with only a part of his wages; and mother always cried when she thought they did not see her, and after the long sleep father looked as if he did n’t like to meet their eyes, but went off early. They knew what it meant, but never spoke of it,--only pondered over it, and mourned with mother at the change which was slowly altering their kind industrious father into a moody man, and mother into an anxious over-worked woman. Kitty was thirteen, and a very capable girl, who helped with the housekeeping, took care of the two little ones, and went to school. Tommy and Sammy looked up to her and thought her a remarkably good sister. Now, as they sat round the stove having "a go-to-bed warm," the three heads were close together; and the boys listened eagerly to Kitty’s plans, while the rattle of the sewing-machine in another room went on as tirelessly as it had done all day, for mother’s work was more and more needed every month. "Well!" began Kitty, in an impressive tone, "we all know that there won’t be a bit of Christmas in this family if we don’t make it. Mother’s too busy, and father don’t care, so we must see what we can do; for I should be mortified to death to go to school and say I had n’t had any turkey or plum-pudding. Don’t expect presents; but we _must_ have some kind of a decent dinner." "So I say; I’m tired of fish and potatoes," said Sammy, the younger. "But where’s the dinner coming from?" asked Tommy, who had already taken some of the cares of life on his young shoulders, and knew that Christmas dinners did not walk into people’s houses without money. "We ’ll earn it;" and Kitty looked like a small Napoleon planning the passage of the Alps. "You, Tom, must go early to-morrow to Mr. Brisket and offer to carry baskets. He will be dreadfully busy, and want you, I know; and you are so strong you can lug as much as some of the big fellows. He pays well, and if he won’t give much money, you can take your wages in things to eat. We want everything." "What shall I do?" cried Sammy, while Tom sat turning this plan over in his mind. "Take the old shovel and clear sidewalks. The snow came on purpose to help you." "It’s awful hard work, and the shovel’s half gone," began Sammy, who preferred to spend his holiday coasting on an old tea-tray.