Little Tim's throat choked up again, and he rolled his eyes around and swallowed twice before he answered: "An' I--I was miser'ble too, gran'dad. I used ter des look at 'er hangin' 'g'inst de wall, an' think about me maybe playin' 'er, an' you--you not--not nowhar in sight--an'--an' some days seem like _I--I des hated 'er_." "Yas, baby, I know. But now you won't hate 'er no mo', boy; an' ef you die fus'--some time, you know, baby, little boys _does die_--an' ef you go fus', I'll teck good keer o' yo' sheer in 'er; an' ef I go, you mus' look out fur my sheer. An' long as we bofe live--well, I'll look out fur 'er voice--keep 'er th'oat strings in order; an' you see dat she don't git ketched out in bad comp'ny, or in de rain, an' take cold. "Come on now. Wash yo' little face, and let's go ter de dance. Gee-man! Lis'n at de fire-crackers callin' us. Come on. Dat's right. Pack 'er on yo' shoulder like a man." And so the two Tims start off to the Christmas festival, young Tim bearing his precious burden proudly ahead, while the old man follows slowly behind, chuckling softly. "Des think how much time I done los', not takin' 'im in pardners befo', an' he de onlies' gran'son I got!" While little Tim, walking cautiously so as not to trip in the uneven path, turns presently and calls back: "Gran'dad, I reckon we done walked half de way, now. I done toted 'er _my_ sheer. Don't you want me ter tote 'er _yo' sheer_?" And the old man answers, with another chuckle, "Go on, honey." THE FREYS' CHRISTMAS PARTY THE FREYS' CHRISTMAS PARTY There was a great sensation in the old Coppenole house three days before Christmas. The Freys, who lived on the third floor, were going to give a Christmas dinner party, and all the other tenants were invited. Such a thing had never happened before, and, as Miss Penny told her canary-birds while she filled their seed-cups, it was "like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky." The Frey family, consisting of a widow and her brood of half a dozen children, were as poor as any of the tenants in the old building, for wasn't the mother earning a scant living as a beginner in newspaper work? Didn't the Frey children do every bit of the house-work, not to mention little outside industries by which the older ones earned small incomes? Didn't Meg send soft gingerbread to the Christian Woman's Exchange for sale twice a week, and Ethel find time, with all her studies, to paint butterflies on Swiss aprons for fairs or fetes? Didn't everybody know that Conrad, now but thirteen, was a regular solicitor for orders for Christmas-trees, palmetto palms, and gray moss from the woods for decorative uses on holiday occasions? The idea of people in such circumstances as these giving dinner parties! It was almost incredible; but it was true, for tiny notes of invitation tied with rose-colored ribbons had been flying over the building all the afternoon. The Frey twins, Felix and Felicie, both barefoot, had carried one to each door.