Susie wiped away the tears, and turned to look out of the window. Perhaps she said to herself, “perhaps Santa Clause has something for me after all!” Now, the sad, really dreadful part about it was that Santa Clause didn’t have one single thing for Susie in his pack. Perhaps it was because she had moved into that house since last Christmas, or perhaps for once old Santa had made a mistake. Anyway, he was just saying to himself: “Why, bless me, what shall I do about it?” when he caught sight of that shivering little kitten. “The very thing!” he thought. “I’ll give them to each other!” and he chuckled till his reindeer looked around to see what was the matter. And what happened next? Well, that kitten never knew really. It only seemed as if there was a sudden rush and jingle of bells, which frightened it so that it flew up the street as fast as its four little legs could carry it, until it saw a small friendly face at a window, and rushed up some steps nearby. Then a door opened, and two soft little arms picked it up gently from the cold snow and a voice cried: “Oh, mamma, see the poor little kitten--it’s so cold--oh, we’ll keep it, won’t we, mamma! The poor little thing. Do you think it would drink milk?” Would it drink milk? What a question to ask about a little kitten. While the little kitten was nearly choking itself trying to drink a saucerful of milk and purr at the same time, there was a jingle of bells outside, and Susie said: “Mamma, I hear old Santa’s bells, and, of course, this is the present he brought.” THE NICKEL THAT BURNED IN FRANK’S POCKET. Deacon Hepworth kept a little fish market. “Do you want a boy to help you?” asked Frank Shaw one day. “Can you give good weight to my customers and take good care of my pennies?” “Yes, sir,” answered Frank. Forthwith he took his place in the little store, weighed the fish and kept the room in order. “A whole day for fun, fireworks and noise tomorrow!” exclaimed Frank, as he buttoned his white apron about him the day before the Fourth of July. A great trout was thrown down on the counter by Ned Tant, one of Frank’s playmates. [Illustration: “YOU HAVE FORGIVENESS, FRANK.”] “Here’s a royal trout, Frank. I caught it myself. You may have it for ten cents. Just hand over the money, for I’m in a hurry to buy my firecrackers,” said Ned hurriedly. The deacon was out, but Frank had made purchases for him before, so the dime spun across to Ned, who was off like a shot. Just then Mrs. Sinclair appeared. “I want a nice trout for my dinner tomorrow. This one will do; how much is it?” she asked as she carefully examined it. “A quarter, ma’am,” and the fish was transferred to the lady’s basket and the silver piece to the money drawer. But here Frank paused. He thought to himself: “Ten cents was very cheap for that fish. If I tell the deacon it cost fifteen cents he’ll be satisfied, and I shall have five cents to invest in firecrackers.”