For a week, Jack wondered and mused within himself how he could get something for Christmas presents for his little sisters. He couldn't make anything at home without their seeing it, nor at school without the teacher's seeing it, or else the big boys plaguing him about it. Besides, he would rather buy something pretty, such as they had never seen before--china dolls in pink dresses, or something of that kind. One morning, however, Jack discovered some quail-tracks in the snow near the straw-stack, and he no longer wondered about ways and means, but in a moment was awake to the importance of this discovery. That very evening he made a wooden trap, and the next morning early set it near the stack, and laid an inviting train of wheat quite up to it, and scattered a little inside. He told his sisters, Mary and Janey, about the trap, but not about what he meant to do with the quails when he caught them. That afternoon Jack went to his trap, and to his unbounded joy found an imprisoned quail, frozen quite stiff. He quickly set the trap again, and ran to the house with his bird. All that evening he worked at quail-traps and made three more. It was so much warmer that their mother let the children stay up a little later than usual; and Mary ventured to bring out her playthings and Janey's. These were two dolls, some bits of broken dishes, and a few little pine blocks. Mary watched her mother's face until she was sure she was "feeling good," before she ventured to begin a play, because on days when mother was very discouraged, it made her feel worse if the children were noisy, and so they would keep quiet and speak in whispers. "Does Santa Claus bring dolls?" asked Mary, suddenly, of Jack. "Oh yes; dolls with pretty dresses on; and little bunnits and pink shoes; and little cubberds to keep their clothes in, and chairs, and everything," said Jack, enthusiastically. "Oh, my!" sighed Mary, as she looked dolefully at their poor little heap of toys. Reader, their dolls were cobs, with square pieces of calico tied around them for dresses; and after hearing what Jack said, it wasn't so much fun playing, and the little girls soon went to bed. After they were asleep, Mrs. Boyd said, reproachfully: "Jack, I wish you wouldn't say anything more about Christmas to the children." "Why, is it bad?" asked Jack, so astonished that he stopped whittling. "No, of course not; but you're getting their heads full of notions about fine things they never can have." Jack's eyes twinkled. "Oh, but you don't understand, mother," said he; "may be Santy Claus will come this year." His mother shook her head. "You know I caught one quail to-day?" whispered Jack. "Well!" said his mother.