"I needn't point the moral to you, Kristy," Mrs. Wilson said, "but I assure you I learned my lesson well; and that's why I keep my dear little dog's body in a glass case. I cherished him beyond everything as long as he lived, and couldn't bear to give him up when he died at a good old age. "Now," said Mrs. Wilson, "I must really go. It has stopped raining, Kristy, and I have paid mamma's debt." "No, indeed!" cried Kristy. "You have told me lovely stories, and mamma owes me two to pay for them!" "That's a curious way of calculating," said Mrs. Wilson, laughing; "do you expect to be paid twice for everything?" "Yes; when it's stories," said Kristy. "Kristy'll soon have to write stories for herself, I think," said her mother, smiling, "when she has exhausted the stock of all her friends." Kristy blushed, but did not confess that that was her pet ambition. "Now, mamma," said Kristy that evening after supper was over, "some more rainy day stories, please!" "Will you have them all at once?" asked mamma, taking up some fancy knitting she kept for evenings, "or one at a time?" "One at a time, please," answered Kristy. "Well; get your work. How much did you do this afternoon?" Kristy looked guilty. "You know I just _can't_ remember to knit when I'm listening to a story. I--I--believe I did not knit once across." Her mother laughed. "The poor Barton baby'll go cold, I'm afraid, if he waits for his carriage robe till you finish it. How would you like to knit him a pair of stockings? Shall I set them up and give you a daily stint?" "Ugh!" said Kristy. "Please don't talk of anything so dreadful! You told me yourself how you hated it." "It's a very good plan, nevertheless," said Mrs. Crawford. "Perhaps it would have been wiser not to tell you about that." "Now, mamma!" said Kristy reproachfully. "I think," mamma went on, "that I shall have to make up for that story of a girl who didn't like to work,--at least that kind of work,"--she corrected herself, "by telling you about a girl who worked enough for two." "Oh, oh!" cried Kristy, "I'm afraid that'll not be very interesting." "Well, you shall see," said mamma, "for I'm going to tell you how she got up a whole Christmas tree alone, and made everything on it herself." "Oh!" said Kristy relieved, "that'll be good, I know; begin." "Well, I'll begin where the story begins, as I have heard May tell it, with a talk between her sister and herself. One morning a little before Christmas the two girls got to talking about that happy time and the way it is celebrated, and May listened eagerly to Lottie's description of a tree she had at her aunt's the year before." CHAPTER XII LOTTIE'S CHRISTMAS TREE "There's no use wishing for anything away out here in the woods," said Lottie fretfully, rocking violently back and forth by the side of the bed. "No, of course we couldn't have one, but I should like to see a Christmas tree before I die. It must be splendid!"