"I mean the highways and byways," she said to her mother; "some of the poor people who really have no Christmas."
They made out quite a list,—three or four widows with little children, some old women, and several homes in which there was sickness. Aunt Ruth fashioned some garments,—Kathie buying the material out of her Fortunatus's purse; two or three good warm shawls had been provided, and different packages of provisions, some positive luxuries. They stood in a great pile at the lower end of the hall, all ready for distribution.
"If you were not too tired—" Kathie said, after supper.
"I am not utterly worn out," and Uncle Robert smiled a little. "What is it?"
"I wish you and I could go out with the gifts, instead of Mr. Morrison."
"Why not, to be sure?" reading the wistful glance in the soft eyes.
"It would be so delightful. And as we are not to have our Christmas until to-morrow—"
"Bundle up then, for it is pretty sharp out. I will go and order the horses."
It was so easy to ride around and dispense benefits that Kathie almost wondered if there was any real merit in it.