“And maybe, if we ask in the poor and lame, He will look down and think Susy Diller is trying to keep Christmas the right way.  There’ll be lame Tim Jenkins,—­you know he was run over by the street cars,—–­and Humpy, whose mother is dead, and the little Smith that I set up in the paper business, and Kit Benner, who’s been sick and lost his place, and—­”

It was then that Granny had said:  “Don’t ask another one.  There won’t be room enough for ’em to stand on one foot.”

“And we’ll have a rousin’ turkey,—­I know where I can get one real cheap,—­and cranberry sauce, and pickles, and mince pie.  A regular feast, and no mistake!”

But finally Susy had found two more; so now there were six of them.  Susy had work in a factory and took care of Granny, who was too old to do much of anything, and was almost bent double with rheumatism.  They had a room on the second floor of a tumble-down barrack, and one small bedroom out of it; but Granny thought it almost a palace, because Susy was so good to her.

And now here was one more to share their Christmas dinner.  What would Granny say!  But the young missionary did not stop long to consider the matter,—­here was a case of real suffering, and Susy’s conscience quickly adjusted itself—­

“Come along,” said Susy to the little vagrant, thinking somehow of the Lord of all who had not where to lay His head.

“For maybe if He was here,” she soliloquized, “we shouldn’t be able to tell Him from anyone else.  And it’s just—­anybody.”

[Illustration:  “She dropped into a little heap before the fire.”]

Susy took the little estray by the arm, and hurried her along.  Poor little Jennie! her feet seemed hardly to touch the ground, they were so cold and numb.  She didn’t much care even if she was being taken to the station house.

But she wasn’t.  After a while she felt the warmth and heard the voices, but she was so tired and sleepy that she dropped into a little heap before the fire and only heard her young rescuer say:—­

“Let her sleep, Granny; it’ll do her more good than anything else.”

[Illustration:  "It was a famous Christmas feast."]

“But, Susy, child, we can’t take care of her all the time.  And—­” Granny stopped there, looking into Susy’s eyes.

“It’s Christmas eve, Granny.  I feel as if we ought to do something, even if we have only a manger to take people into.”

By and by, Jennie Morgan, the poor little waif, woke up, had some supper, and told her story.  It was like hundreds of others, only her mother was a beautiful lady.  She had seen some one in the street this morning that looked just like her.

“She’s smart and chipper, Granny, and she’ll soon be better,” said Susy.

Jennie’s cheeks were very red the next morning, and her eyes very bright; moreover, her voice had a curious tremble in it, but she declared she was quite well.  It was so delightful to be housed and warm, and to have no great hungry pangs gnawing at her stomach.