Susy went out a while, and Granny prepared her turkey to roast.  Poor Jennie thought there never had been such a savory fragrance before.

It was a famous Christmas feast.  There were lame Tim with a clean face, and a new red necktie to do honor to the occasion; Humpy, as the little fellow was called, who sold pins, tape, and shoe strings on the corner, and had grown deformed from a bad fall; Kit Benner, looking white enough and thin enough to frighten you; three others, and the little stray Jennie Morgan, besides Granny, in a new cap and new calico gown.

Such a time as they had!  They were so crowded around the table that they had hardly elbow room.  They made jokes, laughed, drank Granny’s health in the fragrant coffee, and were as happy as the happiest.

Meanwhile, over at Mr. Linley’s they had a grand tree.  Nellie, dressed like a fairy, distributed the gifts, carefully laying aside those for the poor.  Of course they could not ask such people into their festivities.  It was honor enough to hang their gifts on their beautiful tree.  Then Mrs. Linley played, and they had some charming carols.

They had two or three songs sung also at Susy Diller’s.  Susy had learned them at the mission school.  Finally Jennie begged to lie down in the corner by the stove, for she felt a little chilly, and her head was aching.

“O Susy, won’t you sing again?” she pleaded.  “It’s like heaven.  Mother used to tell me about it.  And do you suppose that the Lord Jesus cares for little girls who have to live on the street and sleep where they can?  Sometimes they can’t help lying and stealing.”

“Yes, He does care.  Mr. Linley told me so.  You see,” and Susy laid her forefinger in the palm of the other hand, “you see this is the way:  He puts the thought into other people’s hearts, ’cause He isn’t here any more to do the work.”

“Oh!” said Jennie slowly, and with a sage nod, “wouldn’t it be good, Susy, if He would put it into the hearts of rich folks? they could do so much.”

“Sometimes He does.  Look at the newsboys’ dinner!  And there’s a good many things.”

Poor Jennie sighed a little.  She could not make it out straight in her tired brain.

The crowd went away presently, declaring that it was the jolliest sort of a Christmas.  They thanked Susy and Granny over and over again.

The next day was Sabbath.  Susy begged Mr. Linley to come and see the little sick girl at her house.  And one way and another, the story of the Christmas feast came out.

For Jennie, the little beggar girl, was very sick.  Cold and hunger had done their worst.  It had been so hard and dreary since her mother died, with no one to care for her, and to have to dodge around continually, kicked and cuffed and almost starved.  And if the Lord up above did care—­

“She’s a pretty sick little girl,” said Susy, “but Granny and I will do our best to pull her through.”