The spirit of Christmas was hovering iu
the air that night, for in the midst, of joy
ous gift making in richer homes, the ring
ing of Christmas bells in towers and
steeples and the remembrances for child
hood throughout the world, some good
angel found time to bring a dream to
weary, happy Kitty. She saw—not Santa
Claus—but a beautiful child, who held out
bands full to overflowing with gifts and
blessings, saying, “The Christ-child sends
them.”
A year passed. It was Christmas eve
again, and there was au air of expectancy’
noticeable iu Mary anil Joe Worrell as
they moved about their humble home.
Kitty was too engrossed in a picture book
to see it. She sat in a reclining chair—Mr.
Claus and his wife had spared no pains to
make her comfortable—and was so interest
ed that she never beard the rattle of wheels.
Joe left the room and weut down to help
if needed. There was a sound of people
climbing the stairs; a vision of loveliness
with golden hair framed in the soft white
of floating feathers and downy furs; thru
a rosy faced maid placed n child before the
door an<i stepped to one side. Joe leaned
from the. other and gave a sounding knock.
It was part of the plan that when it opened
Kitty should see no one but Margaret, her
friend and benefactor, who had grown able
to go out and was come to L<»r for the
first time.
Mary* threw the door wide open, and,
smiling, Margaret stepped forward, her
hands full of packages. The figure in the
chair looked up. and never noticing the
slight limp and bent back, results of the
disease which time would cure, gave a
glad cry.
