Spot had the best of it now; but the French lady spoke up in a way that put the others in good spirits right off, and made honest Spot feel as if he had been sat down upon.

“Perhaps some people can read, if you cant,” she said, “I can read that letter for you, and for old Kriss too, if he wants me to.”

She could not read a word, but she opened out the scribbled sheet in fine style, and just repeated what she had heard Scrubby say.  And this is what Scrubby tried to put in the letter: 

OLE KRISS:  I want a tree, please, ole Kriss, right away.  And lots of pitty things.  And glass s’ippers for mamma.  And moss under it, and animals, jess like I used to have.  And a pink coat for papa, and not wait for some time, cos that’s a noosance.

It was very queer how they all acted when they heard the letter.  There was not another cross word said—­or a word of any kind for that matter.  Not one of them even looked at the others, and it was not until poor Spot gave a big snuff that each of them found out that the rest were crying.

“Well, I know what I’m going to do,” said Minx, at last.  “I’m just going to get that child a tree; that’s what I’m going to do.”

“And I’m going to help you,” Francaise said, as heartily as if she were not a fine lady at all.  “She ruined my dress, and tore my lace, and put my hair in such a state as never was; but I don’t care.  She wants a tree, and she’s going to have it.”

“You ought to have heard how she talked to her papa and old Luce to-night,” sobbed the one-eyed baby.  “It was enough to break a body’s heart.”

“We did hear her,” they all snuffled.

Then they wiped their eyes, and a minute afterward, with much chatter, they began to make preparations for getting the tree.

All but Spot.  Scrubby had used him the worst of all, she loved him so.  She had pulled every hair on him loose, and had twisted his tail until it hung crooked; and yet Spot could not speak or do anything for crying over little Scrubby’s grief.

III.

Pretty soon, Lucy, who had listened to as much of this talk as she could, heard the whole party go out of the back door and start off somewhere.  She was in a great state of mind about it.  Not for anything in the world would she waken Scrubby; but oh! how she longed to tumble down-stairs and rush off after the rest!

What a party it was that did go out of that back door!  And in what style they went!  Ned, the canary, was the only one left behind; and those who couldn’t walk, rode.  For they had hitched the horse to Scrubby’s little battered sled, and made a grand sleighing party of it.

Jumping Jack drove, of course.  The French lady had the seat of honor on the sled, and much trouble she had to keep it, for there was nothing to hold on by, and her head was so loose that it nearly threw her over.