"You see, He came a long, long time ago as a little baby. Mamma says that he began at the beginning, so that no little child could say, 'I can't be like Jesus, for Jesus never was so little as me.' That first birthday of His, there wasn't any room for Him at the tavern, and when the dear little baby Jesus was sleepy, they laid Him right in a stable manger, and the shepherds found Him lying there. Christmas is His Birthday, and I suppose they give all the children presents because Jesus loved little children, and then Santa Claus--Oh, Mrs. Huntley, that's what I came about, and I 'most forgot! If you don't keep Christmas--I mean as we do," she added, as Mrs. Huntley frowned, "and if you don't use the things that Santa Claus leaves here, can't I come over and get 'em? Only I'd rather Ned should have 'em." "Child alive! How your tongue runs! Here, now, take these cookies home with you, I guess Ned's too busy to play with you." "Thank you, ma'am. And you'll remember about Santa Claus?" said little Mamie, as she walked away with her cookies. Mrs. Huntley worked on for a few minutes longer, and then, leaving her dishes, she went to her own room and opened a bureau drawer. There lay a bright little dress and pretty white apron,--Polly's best things,--the little clothes in which she used to look so lovely. There were the last Christmas toys the mother had ever bought,--only a little tin bank, a paper cornucopia, and a doll; but she remembered that Christmas so well! Could it be that it was only three years ago? How Polly had laughed and chattered over her stocking! And Ned,--now that she thought about it,--she remembered that they bought him a pair of skates that year. He had made a great time over those skates, and had taken his little sister out to see him try to use them. Ned was so loving and gentle in those days. And then the mother's heart reproached her. Could she blame her boy because he seemed to care so little for his parents and his home, when she had nursed her grief for the loss of her baby-girl, and taken no pains to be bright or cheerful with him? She thought how clearly Mamie had told the story of the Savior's birthday. Could her boy, who was six years older, do as well? He went to Sunday-school sometimes, but she had never talked with him about Jesus--never since God took her Polly. And her eyes filled as she shut the drawer. Mrs. Huntley went back to the kitchen, but the room seemed different to her. Ned brought in the milk, and looked at his mother curiously at hearing her say, "Thank you, Ned." Wonders would never end, Ned thought, when, after tea, she said, "Father, it's a moonlight night; couldn't you and I drive to the village? Ned will excuse our leaving him alone."