Now I am going to tell what Mr. Boyd did after he met Jack by the toy-store.  He had gone to the village to have a “good time.”  That didn’t mean, as it does with some men, to get tipsy; but it meant he was going to Munger’s grocery, where he could meet people, and talk and joke, and keep warm.

Mr. Boyd had been chopping wood for a farmer, and had received his pay; but instead of going dutifully home and consulting with his wife about what he should buy, he was going to “look around” and see what Munger had.  He was touched at the sight of Jack’s poor little package of gifts, but I doubt if it would have made much impression on his mind if somebody hadn’t walked in to Munger’s and asked in a brisk, loud voice:  “Got any Brazil nuts, Munger?”

The man with the brisk voice bought I don’t know how many quarts of Brazil nuts, and walnuts, and filberts, and almonds, with all the loungers looking on, very much interested in the spectacle.  Then he bought raisins, and candy, and oranges, Mr. Munger growing more smiling every minute.

“Going to keep Christmas, I guess,” said he, rubbing his hands together.

“That I am; ‘Christmas comes but once a year,’ and there are little folks up at our house who’ve been looking for it with all their eyes for a fortnight.”

Then he bought a bushel of apples, and, filling a peck measure with them, passed them around among the men who sat and stood about the stove.

“Take ’em home to your little folks if you don’t want ’em,” he said, when any one hesitated.

There were three or four apples apiece, and Mr. Boyd put all his in his pockets, with a slight feeling of Christmas warmth beginning to thaw his heart.

After this cheery purchaser had gone, some one asked:  “Who is that chap?”

“He’s the new superintendent of the Orphant Asylum,” answered Mr. Munger, rubbing his hands again; “and a mighty nice man he is, too.  Pays for all them things out of his own pocket.  Very fond of children.  Always likes to see ’em happy.”

There were two or three men around that stove who hung their heads, and Mr. Boyd was one of them.  He hung his the lowest, perhaps because he had the longest neck.  I don’t know what the other men did,—­something good and pleasant, I hope,—­but Mr. Boyd thought and thought.  First he thought how the “orphants” were going to have a brighter and merrier Christmas than his own children, who had both father and mother.  Then he thought about sweet, patient little Janey, and quiet Mary, and generous Jack, who had taken so much pains to give pleasure to his sisters, and a great rush of shame filled his heart.  Now, when Mr. Boyd was once thoroughly aroused, he was alive through the whole of his long frame.  He thumped his knee with his fist, then arose and walked to the counter, where he dealt out rapid orders to the astonished grocer for nuts, candies and oranges; not in such large quantities, to be sure, as the “orphants’”