And while they were still turning the revelation over wonderingly in their minds, Polly Haddon called to them softly from the other room. It was a bare little room into which they stepped—barer and poorer than even they had imagined. And in the midst of a little iron bed lay Peter, so pathetically white and emaciated that it tore their hearts to look at him. “Is he very bad?” asked Billie, turning to weary-eyed Polly Haddon. “The doctor says he almost surely will die,” answered the latter in a toneless voice. “He has just one chance out of a hundred.” And as though speaking the doctor’s name had brought him there, the big man himself entered at that moment and the girls took that opportunity to say good-bye. “Poor little Peter,” sighed Billie, as they walked slowly homeward. “I suppose if he dies poor Mrs. Haddon will nearly die too.” “I wish there was something we could do,” said Vi, frowning. “I don’t know what more we could do than we have done,” said Laura gloomily. “Except,” said Billie thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on the far horizon, “find that invention of hers. I imagine that would make her so happy that she might even persuade poor little Peter to live.” “Good gracious!” cried Laura, throwing up her hands in a despairing gesture. “She’s raving again, girls, she’s raving again!” Billie laughed, but her eyes were still very thoughtful. But the holiday season was upon them and it was impossible for the girls to be gloomy or unhappy for very long. They wished with all their hearts that Polly Haddon and her pathetic little brood might be made happy and prosperous once more, but even while they were wishing they could not shake off the exultant thought that Christmas was coming. And Christmas to most of them meant home and family and turkeys and cranberry sauce and presents—oh, oodles of presents! “No holiday quite as good as good old Christmas,” observed Laura, gaily, as she danced around with a package she had just been doing up in a red ribbon. “I’m with you on that,” declared Billie. “Oh, do you know, sometimes I can hardly wait until Christmas comes!” “But you’ll wait just the same,” drawled Vi. “We all will.” “It’s waiting that makes it worth while,” declared Billie. “It’s like the small boy and the circus. Tell him in the morning that you will take him in the afternoon and it doesn’t amount to much. But tell him a month ahead and he’ll get a whole month’s fun out of it before it comes off.” “All right, Billie, I’ll tell you a secret,” whispered Vi, with a twinkle in her eyes. “About a year from now we’ll have another Christmas. Now is your time to start thinking about it.” And then there were giggles all around. “I’ll wait for one Christmas to be over before I think of the next,” declared Billie.