"What are those children doing?" asked the clergyman of his wife a few days after Christmas.
WHAT BECAME OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE.—Drawn by C. S. Reinhart.
"I really can not tell you, James," was the reply, as his wife peered anxiously over his shoulder, and out of the window. "All that I know about it is this: I was busy in the pantry, when Rob put his head in, and asked if he could have the Christmas tree, as nearly everything had been taken off of it; so I said 'Yes,' and there he goes with it, sure enough. I do hope the wax from the candles has not spotted the parlor carpet."
"Don't be anxious, wife; 'Christmas comes but once a year, and when it comes should bring good cheer.'"
"Yes," said the careful housewife, "I suppose I do worry. But there! it is snowing again, and Bertha perched up on that tree on Rob's sled, and she so subject to croup!"
"The more she is out in the pure air, the less likely she is to take cold; but where are they going?"
"I really do not know, James. Did you ever see a dog more devoted to any one than Jip is to Rob? There he goes, dancing beside him now; and I see Rob has tied on the scarf Bertha knit for him; that is done to please her. She did work so hard to get it finished in time before he came home for the holidays."
"She is very like her own dear little mother in kindness and care for others," was the reply.
The mother gave a bright smile and a kiss for the compliment, but a little wail from the nursery hurried her out of the room.