"A—a—h!" exclaimed the three children, gazing with rapture. And—
"A—a—h!" they repeated over and over and over again, as splendour followed splendour, and the sky was powdered again and again with sparks of coloured fire.
FATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME
TWILIGHT
It was afternoon on a cold December day. Eva, all alone in the schoolroom, sat down on the hearthrug and looked thoughtfully into the fire. She was, however, not quite alone, for her tiny Yorkshire terrier sprang on her lap, and after turning round and round, pawing at her frock as though to make a comfortable hollow, settled cosily down.
"Dot," she said, smoothing the hair back from its eyes, "I'm very miserable. To-morrow is Christmas Eve, and every one is happy except me. I'm in trouble again. Somehow, I'm always in trouble—I've spoilt my velvet frock washing your feet—and you didn't want them washed, did you?" The Honourable Dot—to give it its full title—looked desirous of forgetting the incident, then licked her hand as a reply seemed expected.
"Perhaps if I had some brothers and sisters they'd get into mischief sometimes, and it wouldn't always be me." Dot paid no heed to her grammar, was bored, and sighed heavily.
"I really didn't mean it when I said, 'I gloried in being naughty.' Don't snore, Honourable! There'll be complaints from next door."
It was curious, but Eva was having remorse, brought on by all the talk of Peace and Goodwill which was in the air. "I've tried things before," she muttered; "but I know what I'll do this time," she exclaimed, "I'll give a cot to a hospital!"