friend had done, but generous enough for three children.  And he bought a calico dress for his wife, a pair of shoes for each of the little girls, and a cap for Jack.  That store contained everything, from grind-stones to slate-pencils, and from whale-oil to peppermint-drops.  These purchases, together with some needful groceries, took all Mr. Boyd’s money, except a few pennies, but a Christmas don’t-care feeling pervaded his being, and he borrowed a bag, into which he stowed his goods, and set out for home.

It was a pretty heavy bagful, but its heaviness only made Mr. Boyd’s heart the lighter.  When he reached home, he stood the bag up in one corner, as if it held turnips, and said, “Don’t meddle with that, children.”  Then he went out and spent the rest of the short day in chopping wood, which was very cheering to his wife.  So many Sundays had dawned with just wood enough to cook breakfast, that Mrs. Boyd began to dread that day particularly, for her husband was almost sure to go right away after breakfast and spend the whole day at the neighbors’ houses, while his own family shivered around a half-empty stove.

Mr. Boyd said never a word about the bag, and the unsuspecting household thought it contained corn or some other uninteresting vegetable, and paid little attention to it.  It also stood there all the next day, and the children grew quite used to the sight of it.

Sunday went by quietly, and, to the surprise of all, Mr. Boyd stayed at home, making it his especial business to hold Janey on his lap, and keep the stove well filled with wood.  Janey wasn’t feeling well that day, and this unusual attention to her made the family very kindly disposed toward their father, whom of late they had come to regard almost as an alien.

Jack, whose shoes were not yet worn out, went to Sunday-school, and after his return the winter day was soon gone.  Then he began to fidget, and was very desirous that his mother should put the little girls to bed; while, strange to say, his father was desirous that the whole family should go to bed, except himself.  In course of time the little girls were asleep in their trundle bed, with their little red stockings hanging behind the door.  Mr. Boyd sat with his back to the door, so Jack slipped in his presents without his father’s seeing him, and went to his cold bed upstairs.

“Aint you going to hang up your stocking, mother?” asked Mr. Boyd after Jack had gone.

Mrs. Boyd looked startled.

“Why, no,” she answered, hesitatingly, not knowing whether the question was asked in irony or in earnest.

“You better,” said Mr. Boyd, going to the bag in the corner, and beginning to untie the strings.

He laid out package after package on the floor.  His wife knelt down by them in a maze of astonishment.  Then, with a great deal of enjoyment, Mr. Boyd untied them one by one, showing candy, nuts, oranges, shoes, and all the rest, except the calico dress, which he kept out of sight.