The sled was the first thing given, and Connie grew so excited over it that until twice repeated she did not hear her name when called for the maple sugar, which she began at once to eat, as she did the grapes which came next. The book and nuts were last, and by that time her mouth was full, and there were smears of sugar and grape juice on her face and stains on her blue cloak. But she was very happy, and better pleased than she had been at home with the costliest toys. Alternating with her name was that of Chance, who, with wonderful sagacity, seemed to comprehend the matter and sat with great gravity by Connie until his name was called. Then he went with a bound to the tree, and making short work of his sandwich walked back again to his post, waiting for the next call. “Now, then,” Kenneth said, when the last paper of nuts was handed to Connie, “I want you to make believe you are Harry and come up for him.” “All right,” was Connie’s reply, as she put into her mouth a piece of sugar so big that she could scarcely articulate plainly. The knife was given out, and the mittens and the skates, and Connie put them on her sled and seemed waiting for more. “That’s all, except the candle,” Kenneth said, while Connie’s face grew troubled. “Ar’n’t you to have anything? Is everything for Harry and nothing for you?” she asked; and Kenneth replied, “I guess that’s about the size of it.” “Why?” Connie continued. “Why everything for Harry and nothing for you? Is he a better boy?” “I don’t know,” Kenneth replied. “Perhaps he is. He has always had more things than I. You see his father and mother are dead, and then he is a great deal handsomer than I am.” “Ar’n’t you handsome?” Connie said, rolling the piece of sugar from side to side in her mouth and letting more of it run down her face and on to her cloak. “What do you think?” Kenneth asked, with a laugh, while Connie scrutinized him so closely that he felt himself blushing to the roots of his hair. “Well?” he said, after a moment; and Connie answered, “I don’t know whether you are as handsome as Harry or not, and I don’t care. You are the bestest boy and have the goodest face I ever saw, and I love you.” Before Kenneth could reply Connie was at his side, saying to him: “You sit down and I’ll call your name. You’ve got to have something.” “But there’s nothing for me except the candle,” Kenneth suggested; and Connie persisted: “Yes, there is something Harry will never get,—never. You’ll see. Sit down,” and throwing off her hood and pushing back her hair with sticky hands, she stood up very straight by the tree, while Kenneth sat down and waited. “Kenneth Stannard!” she called, and Kenneth went forward, meeting the impulsive little girl, who threw herself upon him, and, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his, said: “I give myself to you!”