"I suppose you do like it," said The Story; "anybody would. I am a very good story, and very fit to be told last, although I cannot see why that is any reason for calling me the 'amen story.' That is foolish, _I_ think! But at any rate, that is no reason for telling me _every_ night. Let your mamma tell you Cock Robin, or Jack the Giant-Killer. They are plenty good enough." "I don't want them," said the little boy, beginning to cry; "I want _you!_ I wont go to sleep all night if mamma don't tell you." "_I_ don't care!" replied The Story; "you needn't cry for me. I've made up my mind. You wont hear me to-night. That as as sure as your name is Paul." And it was just as The Story said. There was no use in the boy's crying, for off went The Story, and it was _not_ told that night; but it is my private opinion that the boy did go to sleep after all. POLLY: A BEFORE-CHRISTMAS STORY. BY HOPE LEDYARD. [Illustration] "Santa Claus!" exclaimed Ned, half mockingly. "Yes," insisted Mamie, "what's he going to bring you, Ned?" "I don't know, and I don't care much," he answered, "for there isn't any Santa Claus." "Why, Ned!" cried Mamie, in astonishment. "Even my big brother Harry believes in Santa Claus. He's coming home from school to-night, and we're going to hang up our stockings." "Pshaw!" said Ned, "I must go home. Good-bye." Merry little Mamie stood in amazement, and then ran in-doors to her mother with her perplexity. "Why, mother!" she cried, "Ned Huntley said there wasn't any Santa Claus--and he was real cross about it, too." "Well, Mamie," said her mother, "I wouldn't take any notice of Ned's being cross about Christmas-time. The Huntleys don't keep Christmas." "Don't keep Christmas!" exclaimed Mamie, astonished beyond measure. Seeing that her mother was busy, she took her doll, Helena Margaret Constance Victorine, in her arms, and talked the matter over with her. "What do you think, my dear," said she, "they don't keep Christmas at Ned Huntley's house! I don't know just what mother means by not keeping it, for you know Santa Claus comes down the chimney, and so he can get in during the night and leave Christmas there. Oh, yes, but they don't keep it. They turn it out, I suppose, just like mother told me they acted about the dear little baby Savior; they hadn't any room for him, and I guess Mrs. Huntley hasn't any room to keep Christmas in. I wonder what she does with the Christmas things Santa Claus brings? I wonder if she throws 'em away? I mean to go and ask her;" and putting her child carefully in its cradle, Mamie started.