“I could hardly keep from telling,” said Lottie, with happy eyes.
But now May asked to be carried nearer, and each treasure was examined. The ingenious chessmen were praised, and the frame brought a shower of happy tears from May.
Then there was a surprise for father, for Lottie had found time to make him a nice, warm muffler, and May had knit him a pair of mittens, which she now brought out. And Nancy was not forgotten, for Lottie had made her an apron, and May had made her a tatting collar. Neither was Lottie neglected, for May had netted her a beautiful new net.
And father now drew out of his pocket a letter which he had received from Aunt Laura that morning, on opening which, two new ten-dollar bills were found, presents from Aunt Laura to the girls, “to buy some keepsake with,” the letter said.
“And I was so cross, thinking I should not have any Christmas,” said May repentantly.
“And I was so sad, thinking how different would have been my daughters’ Christmas if their dear mother had been with us,” said father softly.
“And you, Lottie—like a dear, old darling as you are,” said May, giving her a spasmodic hug, “were all the time working away with all your might that I might have the most splendid Christmas tree! I don’t believe Aunt Laura’s is half so pretty!”
“It must be fun to dress up a tree yourself,” said Kristy, when the story was ended.
“And still more,” said her mother, “to get it up, as Lottie did, out of almost nothing. It’s easy enough to go out and buy enough to cover a tree, but it’s a very different affair to make the presents one’s self.