“My-ee!” Jim cried, as they were speeding up Connecticut Avenue, the car piled with packages, “won’t this be a splendid Christmas! Ours first at home, and the hospital Christmas and the Camp Fire one and the old ladies’ one—it’ll be four Christmases all in one year, won’t it, Miss Laura?” he exulted.
“Besides a tree and a gift for each one in your outdoor school,” Laura added.
Jim stared at her wide-eyed. “O, who’s going to give them?” he cried. “You?”
“You and I and the judge, Jim. That is our thank-offering for all that the school is doing for you—and for Jo.”
Jim moved close and hid his face for a long moment on Laura’s shoulder. She knew that he was afraid he might cry, but this time they would have been tears of pure joy. He explained presently, when he was sure that his eyes were all right.
“That will be the best Christmas of all, ’cause some of the out-doorers wouldn’t have a teeny bit of Christmas at home. Jo wouldn’t. He says they never hang up stockings or anything like that at his house. He said he didn’t care, but I know he did.”
That evening Miss Laura asked, “How would you like to put something on our tree for Jo?”
“The Camp Fire tree—and have him come?” Jim cried eagerly.
“Of course.”
It took three somersaults to get that out of Jim’s system. When he came up, flushed and joyful, Laura said, “I’m going to tell you a Christmas secret, Jim. I am going to have each Camp Fire Girl invite her mother, or any one else she likes, to come to our tree. We can’t have presents for them all, of course, but there will be ice cream and cake enough for everybody.”