"S-i-m—sim," spelt Maggie, "p-l-y—ply, simply—to—thy—cross—Oh! it must be 'Simply to thy cross I cling.'"
"Yes," said Bessie, "it's out of 'Yock of Ages,' and mamma loves that hymn so much. Oh! I do want it for her! Do you think twenty cents will buy it, Maggie?"
"I guess not; but we'll ask. I'd like to be grown up for two things, so I'd never have to go to bed till I chose, and so I could have plenty of money to give everybody everything they wanted. Just see that picture of a dog, Bessie. Does it not look like our Flossy? I wish it was nearer, so we could see it better."
"I can't see it at all," said Bessie, raising herself on tiptoe, to gain a view of the picture which was in the centre of the table. "I wish it was nearer, but we must not touch."
"I'd like to see him better, too," said Maggie. "I want to know if he really is like Flossy, or if he just looks so 'cause he is so far off; I know I wouldn't break it either if I moved it; but then—we promised."
"And mamma said we were never to touch without permission," said Bessie; "and we're trusted."
They both stood for some minutes, Maggie looking wishfully at the dog, Bessie still stretching up her neck in a vain attempt to see him, when Maggie suddenly said, "Bessie, mamma said it was not right to put ourselves in the way of temptation, and I think I am doing it. This was just the way I did the day I meddled with papa's inkstand. I stood looking at it, and looking at it, and wishing I had it, till at last I touched it, and did such a lot of mischief. I sha'n't look at the dog any more, and let's go to the other side, and we wont think about it."
As they turned to do as Maggie proposed, they saw a miserable-looking face peeping in at the glass door. It was that of a boy about eight years old, poor, and in rags, his features all pinched with cold and hunger. He was gazing wistfully at the pretty things and the comfortably-dressed people who were within, and perhaps wishing that Christmas brought such happiness to him. As one after another passed in and out, he held up his thin hand and asked for help, but few heeded him.
"See that poor boy," said Bessie; "I don't believe he has any money to buy Christmas presents."