“Well, I don’t care, we’ve got a secret all our own, and won’t ever tell, will we?” cried Jill, falling back on the Home Missionary Society, though it was not yet begun.

“Never!” answered the girls, and all took great comfort in the idea that one mystery would not be cleared up, even at Christmas.

Jack gave up guessing, in despair, after he had suggested a new dining-room where he could eat with the family, a private school in which his lessons might go on with a tutor, or a theatre for the production of the farces in which he delighted.

“It is going to be used to keep something in that you are very fond of,” said Mamma, taking pity on him at last.

“Ducks?” asked Jack, with a half pleased, half puzzled air, not quite seeing where the water was to come from.

Frank exploded at the idea, and added to the mystification by saying,—­

“There will be one little duck and one great donkey in it.”  Then, fearing he had told the secret, he ran off, quacking and braying derisively.

“It is to be used for creatures that I, too, am fond of, and you know neither donkeys nor ducks are favorites of mine,” said Mamma, with a demure expression, as she sat turning over old clothes for the bundles that always went to poor neighbors, with a little store of goodies, at this time of the year.

“I know!  I know!  It is to be a new ward for more sick folks, isn’t it, now?” cried Jack, with what he thought a great proof of shrewdness.

“I don’t see how I could attend to many more patients till this one is off my hands,” answered Mamma, with a queer smile, adding quickly, as if she too was afraid of letting the cat out of the bag:  “That reminds me of a Christmas I once spent among the hospitals and poor-houses of a great city with a good lady who, for thirty years, had made it her mission to see that these poor little souls had one merry day.  We gave away two hundred dolls, several great boxes of candy and toys, besides gay pictures, and new clothes to orphan children, sick babies, and half-grown innocents.  Ah, my boy, that was a day to remember all my life, to make me doubly grateful for my blessings, and very glad to serve the helpless and afflicted, as that dear woman did.”

The look and tone with which the last words were uttered effectually turned Jack’s thoughts from the great secret, and started another small one, for he fell to planning what he would buy with his pocket-money to surprise the little Pats and Biddies who were to have no Christmas tree.

Chapter VI

Surprises

“Is it pleasant?” was the question Jill asked before she was fairly awake on Christmas morning.

“Yes, dear; as bright as heart could wish.  Now eat a bit, and then I’ll make you nice for the day’s pleasure.  I only hope it won’t be too much for you,” answered Mrs. Pecq, bustling about, happy, yet anxious, for Jill was to be carried over to Mrs. Minot’s, and it was her first attempt at going out since the accident.