she carried to her bedroom and locked the door.  She had not much idea what she was going to do, but she kept thinking.  Soon she found enough time to wrap every branch carefully with the red tissue paper her red knitting wool came in, and to cover the box smoothly.  Then she thought of the country Christmas trees she had seen decorated with popcorn and cranberries.  She popped the corn at night and the following day made a trip up the ravine, where she gathered all the bittersweet berries, swamp holly, and wild rose seed heads she could find.  She strung the corn on fine cotton cord putting a rose seed pod between each grain, then used the bittersweet berries to terminate the blunt ends of the branches, and climb up the trunk.  By the time she had finished this she was really interested.  She achieved a gold star for the top from a box lid and a piece of gilt paper Polly had carried home from school.  With yarn ends and mosquito netting, she whipped up a few little mittens, stockings, and bags.  She cracked nuts from their fall store and melting a little sugar stirred in the kernels until they were covered with a sweet, white glaze.  Then she made some hard candy, and some fancy cookies with a few sticks of striped candy cut in circles and dotted on the top.  She polished red, yellow, and green apples and set them under the tree.

When she made her final trip to Hartley before Christmas the spirit of the day was in the air.  She breathed so much of it that she paid a dollar and a half for a stout sled and ten cents for a dozen little red candles, five each for two oranges, and fifteen each for two pretty little books, then after long hesitation added a doll for Polly.  She felt that she should not have done this, and said so, to herself; but knew if she had it to do over, she would do the same thing again.  She shook her shoulders and took the first step toward regaining her old self-confidence.

“Pshaw!  Big and strong as I am, and Adam getting such a great boy, we can make it,” she said.  Then she hurried to the hack and was driven home barely in time to rush her bundles into her room before school was out.  She could scarcely wait until the children were in bed to open the parcels.  The doll had to be dressed, but Kate was interested in Christmas by that time, and so contemplated the spider-waisted image with real affection.  She never had owned a doll herself.  She let the knitting go that night, and cut up an old waist to make white under-clothing with touches of lace, and a pretty dress.  Then Kate went to her room, tied the doll in a safe place on the tree, put on the books, and set the candles with pins.  As she worked she kept biting her lips, but when it was all finished she thought it was lovely, and so it was.  As she set the sled in front of the tree she said:  “There, little folks, I wonder what you will think of that!  It’s the best I can do.  I’ve a nice chicken to roast; now if only, if only Mother or Nancy Ellen would come, or write a line, or merely send one word by Tilly Nepple.”