“Mother,” said Jack, “may I have some money to buy Christmas presents with?”
“Dear,” said his mother, “I have no money. We are very poor, and I can hardly buy enough food for us all.”
Jack hung his head; if he had not been ten the tears would have come to his eyes, but he was ten.
“All the other boys give presents!” he said.
“So shall you!” said his mother. “All presents are not bought with money. The best boy that ever lived was as poor as we are, and yet He was always giving.”
“Who was He,” asked Jack; “and what did He give?”
“This is His birthday,” said the mother. “He was the good Jesus. He was born in a stable, and He lived in a poor working-man’s house. He never had a penny of His own, yet he gave twelve good gifts every day. Would you like to try His way?”
“Yes!” cried Jack.
So his mother told him this and that; and soon after Jack started out, dressed in his best suit, to give his presents.
First, he went to Aunt Jane’s house. She was old and lame, and she did not like boys.