The entrance of Mrs. Raymond, with six shining new pennies to add to Dorothy’s Christmas funds, diverted her thoughts from the dangerous topic. If each of the glittering coppers had been a gold piece they could not have been received with greater rapture. Dorothy galloped about the room, planning Christmas benefactions with the reckless liberality of a millionaire, and Peggy was so encouraged by this rapid development of generosity as to suggest, "And you’re going to buy something for the poor children, aren’t you, Dorothy, the children who don’t have any Christmas?" Dorothy reflected. Suddenly her little face blossomed into a pensive sweetness beautiful to see. "I know, Aunt Peggy," she exclaimed, with the triumph of one who has found a happy solution to a puzzling problem. "I know. The poor children can have the outside of my nuts." "The outside! Why, she means the shells, mother. I don’t see how you can laugh." Peggy looked reproachfully at her mother who had suddenly become interested in the view from the window. "Think how terrible it would be if she should grow up selfish." "She has time to outgrow lots of things, dear, while she’s growing up," said Mrs. Raymond comfortingly, and turned to kiss the rosy mouth of her impatient granddaughter. As Peggy and Dorothy went hand in hand down the stairs, a little voice was wafted back to her. "Your present’s a secret, grandma. It’s going to be ’fum--" And Mrs. Raymond guessed that a resolute hand clapped over Dorothy’s too communicative lips, accounted for the sudden breaking off of the sentence. Dorothy had been so excited over the prospect of spending her twenty-six cents that Peggy deemed it best not to mention the momentous interview which was to preceed the shopping. On the way down town, she broached the subject. "Dorothy, how would you like to see Santa Claus?" Dorothy immediately stood up on the seat. "Aunt Peggy!" she exclaimed with trembling earnestness, "Are we going to the North Pole?" "I’m afraid we’re not bundled up enough for such a cold journey," laughed Peggy. "But I guess we’ll find Santa on the third floor at Myers and Bates. And, if he’s there, you can tell him what you want most for Christmas." "If I ask him for a dolly-baby’s carriage, do you s’pose he’ll shake his head?" cried Dorothy, lurching as the car jolted, and precipitating herself into Peggy’s arms. "Will he ’member how I slapped Sally, ’cause she wouldn’t let me eat out of Taffy’s plate?" "Probably he’ll forgive you for that, if you’re very, very sorry," returned Peggy, smiling as she thought of the gift stored at Priscilla’s, to be safe from Dorothy’s prying. "Anyway, it won’t do any harm to ask him."