“Yes, ma’am,” said they.

Dame Louisa drove as fast as she could, with thankful tears running down her cheeks.  “I’ve been a wicked, cross old woman,” said she again and again, “and that is what blasted my Christmas-trees.”

It was the dawn of Christmas-day when they came in sight of Dame Louisa’s house.

“Oh! what is that twinkling out in the yard?” cried the children.

They could all see little fairy-like lights twinkling out in Dame Louisa’s yard.

“It looks just as the Christmas-trees used to,” said Dame Penny.

[ILLUSTRATION:  “I’LL PUT THIS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE AND—­MELT YOU!”]

“Oh!  I can’t believe it,” cried Dame Louisa, her heart beating wildly.

But when they came opposite the yard, they saw that it was true.  Dame Louisa’s Christmas-trees stood there all twinkling with lights, and covered with trailing garlands of pop-corn, oranges, apples, and candy-bags; their yellow branches had turned green and the Christmas-trees were in full glory.

“Oh! what is that shining so out in Dame Penny’s yard?” cried the children, who were entirely thawed, and only needed to get home to their parents and have some warm breakfast, and Christmas-presents, to be quite themselves.  “Biddy, Biddy, Biddy!” cried Dame Penny, and Dame Louisa and the children chimed in, calling, “Biddy, Biddy, Biddy!”

It was indeed the silver hen, and following her were twelve little silver chickens.  She had stolen a nest in Dame Louisa’s barn and nobody had known it until she appeared on Christmas morning with her brood of silver chickens.

“Every scholar shall have one of the silver chickens for a Christmas present,” said Dame Penny.

“And each shall have one of my Christmas-trees,” said Dame Louisa.

Then all the scholars cried out with delight, the Christmas-bells in the village began to ring, the silver hen flew up on the fence and crowed, the sun shone broadly out, and it was a merry Christmas-day.

TOBY.

Aunt Malvina was sitting at the window watching for a horse-car which she wanted to take.  Uncle Jack was near the register in a comfortable easy chair, his feet on an embroidered foot-rest, and Letitia, just as close to him as she could get her little rocking-chair, was sewing her square of patchwork “over and over.”  Letitia had to sew a square of patchwork “over and over” every day.

Aunt Malvina, who was not uncle Jack’s wife, as one might suspect, but his elder sister, was a very small, frisky little lady, with a thin, rosy face, and a little bobbing bunch of gray curls on each side of it.  She talked very fast, and she talked all the time, so she accomplished a vast deal of talking in the course of a day, and the people she happened to be with did a vast deal of listening.

She was talking now, and uncle Jack was listening, with his head leaning comfortably against a pretty tidy all over daisies in Kensington work, and so was Letitia, taking cautious little stitches in her patchwork.