Mrs. Huntley went back to the kitchen, but the room seemed different to her.  Ned brought in the milk, and looked at his mother curiously at hearing her say, “Thank you, Ned.”  Wonders would never end, Ned thought, when, after tea, she said, “Father, it’s a moonlight night; couldn’t you and I drive to the village?  Ned will excuse our leaving him alone.”

“Excuse!” When had his mother ever asked him to excuse her?  And then, as mother waited for the wagon to be got ready, she asked him to read about the Savior’s birth, and surely there were tears in her eyes as father came in, just as Ned read, “And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.”

Mr. Huntley was bewildered, too.  To start off for the village at seven o’clock in the evening!  When had such a thing happened?

On the road Mrs. Huntley told her husband what Mamie had said to her, and she added, “Perhaps, as I tell it, it don’t seem much, but it made me think of our Polly, and”—­the woman’s voice broke, and the father, saddened too, said, comfortingly, “She’s safe, my dear, in heaven.”

“Yes, father, but I’m thinking of the one that’s left, for all I cried a little.  I guess you were near right about getting him something nice.  He’s but a boy yet, and he’d think more of Christmas, and perhaps of the child that was born on Christmas, if we show him that Jesus has made our hearts a little more tender.”

What it cost that hard, reserved woman to say that, none knew, but I think her husband felt dimly how she must have fought with herself, and he was silent for some time.  At last he said, with a tone of gladness in his voice, “My dear, I’m glad to get him something.  He’s a good boy, Ned is.”

What a pleasant time they had, and how they caught the spirit of Christmas!  They bought a sled and skates, a book or two, and candies, and Mrs. Huntley found a jack-knife that was just the thing Ned wanted.  Then she said to her husband: 

“I’d like to buy something for Mamie.  It will be nice to buy a girl’s present.”

Their hearts ached a little, as they chose a wonderful little wash-tub and board, with a clothes-horse to match.  How Polly’s eyes would have shone at these!

Meantime, Ned mused over his mother’s tears and her strangely kind tones, and thought:  “I wonder if she’s going to be as good to me as she was to Polly!  I hated to hear Mamie talk about Santa Claus.  Polly used to talk just that way, and we did have such good times.  I used to get skates and things at Christmas, but now I get some handkerchiefs or a lot of shirts!  It makes me mad.”  Then Ned fell asleep, and so the mother found him.  She woke him gently and he went off to bed, bewildered by more kind words.

Morning dawned and Ned hurried down to light the fire in the kitchen, but he went no further than the sitting-room.  There was a sled,—­a splendid one,—­a pair of skates, and books!  He put his hands in his pockets to take a long stare, and felt something strange in one of them.  Why!  There was a beautiful knife!