_Volume 13, Number 9._ Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & Co. _Jan. 2, 1886._ THE PANSY. [Illustration: NEW YEAR'S FUN!] LIVES THAT TOUCHED. PART II. WHEN they reached their hotel, they had much to say about the brave little girl with a kind voice, and a strong arm. Daniel the cook knew at once by the description who they must be. "It will be Janet Burns, the fisherman's girl, Miss Celia; and a nicer one never breathed. The care she takes of them children; and the life they lead her!" The next morning the Raymond children left the shore, and went back to their city home. And they were sorry, for they wanted to see more of Janet. Weeks passed, and the business of Christmas time came again to the Raymonds. The box which the children were always allowed to send to whom they would, was being planned. "We would like to send it to the fisherman's children down the coast; Janet, you know, and all her children; Daniel told us all about them." This was the verdict of both Celia and Annie, and to it they clung, in the face of all objections in the shape of not knowing what they needed, or how they would receive a gift. "They need everything, mamma; if you had seen them, you would know. And of course they will like it; who wouldn't like to have a Christmas box?" So the box went its way. It was delayed, as boxes are apt to be, so it was Christmas morning when it reached the desolate little home where Janet lived. It was very desolate that day; and Janet who did not often lose her courage, had given up and cried. No work, and hungry mouths and worn-out clothes. That was the whole sad story. Positively, Christmas day as it was, there was not a mouthful in that house to eat! They had had some breakfast, but where the dinner was to come from none of them knew. The father, after sitting with his head leaning on his hands for awhile, had risen up very slowly as though he had grown old in a few hours, and said: "If worse comes to worst I can go to Daniel at the hotel and ask him for some cold pieces; but I do hate to beg." Then he went out, to take one more look through the dreary little village in search of work. It was then the express wagon stopped at the door, and a great box was carried in. "Janet Burns" was the name in heavy black letters on the box. It was a work of time to get it open. The hammer, axe, an old file and a big old knife each had to be tried in turn. But at last it was open and the treasures began to come out. Oh! the wonders of that box. Two plump fat chickens bearing in their breasts a card on which was written: "We are cooked all ready to be eaten; or, if you like us hot, just plump us into the oven a few minutes, for it is a cold day and we have come fifty miles by train."