It was Najma’s last Christmas, however, that I was going to tell about. We had been busy all morning decorating the little chapel in the hospital and getting the simple gifts all in order for the afternoon celebration. Najma had not been well for a few days, suffering with those attacks of fever that are so common in the Persian Gulf. When Christmas came we thought she would not be well enough to attend, but she begged so hard and was so sure that she would be all right that we sent around a donkey to her home; and when her mother had put on all her new garments, so bright and pretty, she rode to the hospital. Although she was weak, when she came with the other children she brightened up considerably and took a keen interest in everything, even helping to sing the Christmas carols. When the others had said their pieces, she insisted on saying hers and repeated beautifully the whole fifty-first Psalm. Then she waited until the refreshments were served—that most important part of a Christmas celebration—and afterwards wishing everybody a Happy Christmas she was placed on the back of the donkey and went home. I wish you could have seen our Christmas tree on that occasion. It consisted of a number of palm branches tied together and the gifts were hung from the spikes of the branches,—presents old and new for all who came. Most people would have been surprised at the absence of dolls, but in Arabia these have to be given out sparingly and judiciously because some of the Moslems are too much afraid of idol worship to appreciate dolls in their homes. Therefore, we gave the children writing pads and pencils, books and toys, beads and new dresses, small bags of rice for the poorer scholars,—something for everybody. How joyfully each received his or her gift!