Part 6 (1/2)

”What is that over yonder, Lawrence?” asked the lady, laughing.

”Ah, a stocking for me! that is more than I expected. Well, now I'm satisfied that's a joke; and I shall find nothing in it but paper.”

”I'll run and get mine, and then we'll look over our presents together,” said Bertie, in great glee.

Winnie now came in bringing a doll almost as large as herself. It was made of kid, with a porcelain face, and had dresses which could be taken off or put on at pleasure. This was given her by Mrs. Dodge and the clothes by Nelly.

With a loud shout Bertie pulled out a small box in which was a gingerbread man riding on a donkey. ”I know where that came from very quick,” he said. ”It smells just like Mrs. Taylor's gingerbread. Oh, isn't it funny?”

”It is a very striking resemblance of you and Whitefoot,” remarked papa, trying to look grave, at which everybody laughed heartily.

Next came a small package tied with red cord, which contained--what do you imagine? Why, a nightcap, with cook's compliments.

It was found to be a perfect fit, and mamma told him it would keep his hair from being so snarled in the morning.

A pretty ball, just such as Bertie had caught a glimpse of under Nancy's ap.r.o.n was next brought to view, which so much delighted him that he dropped the stocking and began to toss it at once.

There was a gift from Miss Lerow of a beautiful pair of reins, knit of bright worsted and ornamented with little bells. But what pleased him perhaps more than everything else, was a jack-knife from Edward Torrey with the words, ”To the forgiving boy,” marked on the inside of the pasteboard box.

Old Mrs. Grant had not forgotten to add her gift, which was a pair of warm mittens, done up with a nice, knit comforter from Mary Jerrold Monsey.

Altogether it was a great success, and everybody felt very happy.

CHAPTER XI.

THE HEART AND HAND.

”Why don't you open your stocking, papa?” inquired Bertie, when he saw the gentleman about to leave his chamber.

”I'll leave that to mamma,” he said laughing.

”But really, Lawrence,” she answered, ”you might see for yourself.

You'll regret it if you don't.”

”Oh, of course, Cecilia, and spoil your joke!” He hesitated a moment but catching a glimpse of Bertie's anxious face, he turned back suddenly, and took down the stocking from the hook.

Putting his hand cautiously into the top, as if he were afraid of being bitten, at which the children shouted with laughter, he pulled forth a nicely rolled package, the outside of which he most carefully examined with his fingers.

”Very fine!” he exclaimed, with a quick glance at his wife. ”It is a doughnut, I presume.”

”Doughnuts are not to be despised when they are given to express affection,” she answered, gravely.

”Well,” he said, laying the package on his knees, ”I'll see what else there is. I may find a solitary raisin enveloped in a pound or two of paper.”

”Oh, papa, you're too funny!” shouted Bertie.