Feast.’  This was celebrated in an immense great white banqueting-hall, and each one of his subjects brought to their king a white gift to express that the love and loyalty of their hearts was without stain.  The rich brought white chargers, ivory and alabaster; the poor brought white pigeons, or even a measure of rice; and the great king regarded all gifts alike, so long as they were white.  Have I told it right, cousin?” queried Jack.

“Yes, I think so.  It is a beautiful thought, I must confess, and might be all right in a large, rich Sunday school; but in a mission school like ours I am sure it will be a failure.  It will end in our losing our scholars.  I don’t believe in taking up new ideas without considering whether they are adapted to our needs or not.  But please, dear folkses, don’t let us say anything more about it,” pleaded Marcia, and so the subject was dropped.

That evening as Jack Thornton bade his cousin good-bye, he placed in her hand a little package, saying:  “I am so sorry, Marcia, that I can’t be here for your birthday, but here is my remembrance.  Now don’t you dare open it before Tuesday, and, dear, you may be sure it is a ‘white gift,’ and may you have a ’white birthday’.”  And before she could say a word, he had opened the door, and was gone.

Touched by his thoughtful gift and his words, she said to herself:  “A ‘white birthday!’ I always have perfectly beautiful birthdays.”  And so she did; for she was always looking out for other people’s birthdays, and making much of them; and so she always got the gospel measure:  “Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall man give into your bosom.”

But these thoughts were crowded out by the pressure of things to be done—­father and mother had gone into the country to visit a sick friend, and the younger brothers and sisters surrounded her and clamored for songs and Bible stories, and as she was a good older sister she devoted herself to them until their bedtime.  Then, turning out the lights, she sat down in an easy chair before the library grate, and yielded herself to the spell of the quiet hour.  The strained, irritated nerves relaxed, and a strange, sweet peace stole over her.  As she gazed dreamily into the fire, a star seemed to rise out of the glowing coals, and beam at her with a beautiful soft radiance, and the words of the Evangel came into her mind:  “And when they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding joy; and when they were come into the house they saw the young child, with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshipped him; and when they had opened their treasures they presented unto him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh.”  She repeated the words over and over to herself.  How simple and restful they were; how direct and genuine and satisfying was this old-time giving!  There it was—­Gifts for the Christ-Child—­“They presented unto him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh.”  She remembered reading somewhere that the gold represented our earthly possessions, the frankincense typified our service and the myrrh our suffering for his sake.