"Oh, I 'spect the Irish helped them," Nellie added magnanimously. "My papa says the Irish are into every thing."
Not having to bear the ignominy alone Hannah was comforted. "What makes you say prayers on the beads?" she asked.
"'Cause I want Santy to bring me a doll to-night. I wrote him 'bout sixteen letters, and I'm going to say my rosary a dozen times to-day."
To-morrow was Christmas Day! Hannah's face fell. All her sorrows returned with a rush. "Have you got any more of those beads?" she asked.
"Yes, but they wouldn't do you any good," Nellie answered with quick understanding. "You're not a Catholic."
"Couldn't I be one?"
"Not unless you're baptized with holy water. The priest does it."
The leaven had begun to work.
"What did your mama say about asking Santa Claus to come?" Virginia inquired, with a quick glance toward the beads.
Hannah shook her head, speechless. She compressed her lips into a tight line with an effort at self-control, but two large tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on her scarlet coat. Again Virginia placed an arm protectingly across Hannah's shoulder.