“Wait a minute,” she said gently. “Tell me what your name is, won’t you, and where you live, and what you came out for this cold morning with so thin a sack?” “I’m Janey Hooper; we live down there on Factory Lane. It wasn’t far to go, and my sack is worn out, that is why it is so thin; but it will do very well for this winter. I came out to buy the Christmas dinner.” “Did you, indeed! Aren’t you very young to go to market?” “O, no, ma’am! I’m turned nine, and the oldest of four, and father’s dead. Of course I have to do all I can. I know how to choose a lovely soup bone.” “Do you? Are you going to have soup to-day?” “Yes’m, a big kettle full; I’ve got ten cents to buy a bone with. I generally get a five-cent one; but we thought for Christmas we would have it fine. My brother is to be home to dinner; he is most twelve, and likes soup.” There was a mist before Adele’s eyes that the frosty air did not make. She brushed it away and settled her plans. “Come in here with me a minute,” she said; “I want your help about something.” The child followed her wonderingly, with eyes that grew every moment larger, as the thick brown coat which hung on a wire figure was taken down and deliberately tried by the smiling shop girl on her quaint little self. “It fits to a T,” said the girl; “Janey has a pretty figure, and that just suits her.” “It is warm, at least,” said Adele. “Did you say it was two and a half? What an absurd price! Keep it on, child; it is for you. This is Christmas, you know, and Santa Claus sent it to you. Now that shoulder shawl.” A moment more, and it was in Janey’s astonished arms. Her eyes sparkled, but she made an earnest protest: “Oh! if you please, I don’t think I can; I am afraid mother would not”— “Your mother cannot help herself,” interrupted Adele. “Don’t you know I told you it was Santa Claus? He does what he likes always. Come along, I’m going to market with you; I want to see you pick out a soup bone. Is it to go in that basket?” She picked it out with grave care and with skill, Adele and the market man watching her the while. “Isn’t it a nice one, Bobby?” said the child, to a stout boy who had also stopped. Adele turned as the freckled boy nodded. “Who is this? Is he a friend of yours? Well, Bobby, Santa Claus wants you to do an errand for him, will you? He will give you four of those red-cheeked apples if you will.” The boy laughed good-naturedly, and said he didn’t know much about Santa Claus, but he would do whatever she wanted done.