“Oh, I think she’ll forget about us all soon, and enjoy her new home very much!” said Helen.
“I think not,” said Mary. “Blackie never forgets. She never did.”
It was late in the autumn, and Mrs. Henson was too busy with work to think much more about a dog. James was up early and home late, and Helen’s little hands were more than filled with work too hard for a child.
Christmas was near at hand, and the rich and the poor were planning according to their means for a merry time. Mrs. Henson’s presents must necessarily be small, and along the line of the absolutely necessary. James must have boots, Helen a simple dress, and Mary some mittens, with a bag of parched corn, a little candy, and a few nuts.
Mr. Colebrook did not forget the widow’s family. He sent coal, a barrel of flour, some money for rent, and some articles of clothing for the children. There was one quite large package for Mary. What was in it nobody could imagine, though Mrs. Henson was in the secret. Finally a low whining was heard; the box was hastily opened, and out sprang Blackie into Mary’s lap, and kissed her over and over again. The child cried, and Blackie nestled her face against Mary’s neck and cried also. She was home again as a Christmas present, and she liked the plain home better than the grand one.
“Did you really want to come back, Blackie,” said Mary, “and sleep with me again, and not be rich and great any more?” and Blackie wagged her tail and whined approvingly, as though it were the happiest Christmas of her life.
THE CHRISTIAN HUNTER.
“THIS IS Mr. Graham, a leader in our church work,” said Miss Ward, as she introduced the fine-looking young man to her friend Miss Warburton.