“Holy smoke!” muttered Haze, not knowing whether to be most disappointed or amused. “Wh-what’s it for?” “A pet, to be sure!” answered Ernie, nonchalantly. “I bought it of Murray, the fishman, and, though he said he did not usually sell clams by the piece, when he did they cost just one cent. So we’ll call it Abraham Lincoln in memory of your lucky penny. Bobsie will love it! It can snap at a straw if you try to tickle it, and hang on like a bulldog. You’ll see.” “But how did you ever come to think of it, Ernie?” I asked. “Clam-fritters,” answered Ernie, succinctly. “We had ’em the other morning for breakfast, and then, too, we’ve been studying bivalves in school this term, and they are really very interesting animals.” So, the stocking was filled, with an orange, an apple, the molasses-candy figures,—chicken, pig, boy,—some sugar-plums left over from the party, my slippers, and the white flannel rabbit, whose pink silesia ears poked alluringly out at the top. Mother and I stole on tiptoe into the nursery to play the part of Santa Claus, by light of a shaded candle. We dropped the down quilt softly over Robin’s crib, and stood for a moment watching our baby, who, quite worn out with the evening’s excitement, slept feverishly, a bright flush upon his cheek, his little breast rising and falling in answer to his hurried breathing. “I hope it has not been too much for him,” said mother, in a low voice. “I hope not,” I answered. But we might have spared ourselves anxiety. Robin slept quietly through the night, and till half-past seven Christmas morning, when he woke as fresh and blithe as a lark. And how delighted he was with all his things! He positively shouted with joy over the paper menagerie and tin soldiers; and insisted upon being put into his new dressing-gown on the spot, with many sarcastic side remarks about “boys what said there was no Santa Claus!” But the present that pleased him most of all was—Abraham Lincoln! “It is what I wanted more than _anything in the world_!” he remarked, with a fondly doting glance at his new pet. “Only I didn’t think of it in time to say so. Now when Rosebud runs away and leaves me, I need never be lonely again!” Though the rest of us did not fare as royally as Robin, there was some trifle for each one;—Ernie had seen to that. “I had just fifty cents to spend on the entire family,” she explained. “Don’t you think I managed well?” There were also a number of pretty gifts from Mrs. Burroughs, the score of _Robin Hood_ from Meta for me, and a really portentous jackknife with three blades and a corkscrew attachment from Geof for Ernie. “How jolly!” she cried, hopping about on her little pink toes. “I need never borrow Hazard’s again, and I can pull all Robin’s cod-liver oil corks! Hurr-oo!”