It was Christmas Day, and very, very hot; for Christmas in South Africa comes at mid-summer, whilst the winter, or rainy season, occurs there in July and August, which certainly seems a strange arrangement to our ideas. However, whatever the temperature may be, Christmas is ever kept by all English people as nearly as possible in the same way as they were wont to keep it "at Home," for it is thus that all colonists lovingly speak of the land of their birth.

So, though little Vera Everest lived on an African farm, she knew all about Christmas, and did not forget to hang up both her fat, white socks, to find them well filled with presents on Christmas morning; and there were roast turkey and plum-pudding for dinner, just as you had last year.

She was not old enough to ride to the distant village church with her parents, but she amused herself during their absence with singing all the Christmas carols she knew to Sixpence, her Zulu nurse; and by and by she heard the tramp of the horse's feet, and ran to the door.

Instead of the cheerful greeting she expected, Mother hardly noticed her little girl. She held an open letter in her hand, and was crying—yes, crying on Christmas Day!

Mrs. Everest was indeed in sad grief; the mail had just come in, and she had a letter to say that her mother was seriously ill, and longing to see her. A few months ago there would have been no difficulty about the journey; but the Everests had lost a great deal of money lately, and an expensive journey was now quite out of the question, and yet it cut her to the heart not to be able to go to her mother when she was ill, and perhaps dying.

Vera was too young to be told all this, but she was not too young to see that Mother was in trouble.

"I do believe Santa Claus forgot Mammy's stocking," she said to herself: "she has not had a present to-day, and that's why she's crying."

So Vera turned the matter over in her mind, and came to the conclusion that she must give Mother a present, as Santa Claus had so shamefully neglected her.

She went to her treasure-box—a tin biscuit-case in which she kept the pretty stones and crystals which she picked up in her walks, and, after thinking a little, she chose a bright, irregular-shaped stone, and, clasping her hands tightly behind her, she went on to the veranda.

Mother was lying back in a cane chair and gazing with sad eyes over the sea.

"I've brought you a Christmas present, Mother," said Vera. "Don't cry any more, but guess what it is."

Mrs. Everest turned round and smiled lovingly at her child. Certainly little Vera made a pleasant picture for a mother's eyes to dwell upon as she stood there roguishly smiling in her cool white frock and blue sash, and a coral necklace on her fat neck, whilst her golden hair shone like a halo round her head.

"Guess, Mother dear," repeated Vera; then, unable to wait, she jumped on Mrs. Everest's lap, and, opening her little pink hands, she displayed the stone. "It's your Christmas present!" she declared.

Mrs. Everest kissed the child, but did not, so thought Vera, take enough notice of her handsome gift.

"It shines, doesn't it, Father?" she said, holding it up for Mr. Everest's inspection as he passed along the veranda.

Mr. Everest stopped, took the stone in his hand, then, turning deadly pale, he walked quickly into the house without saying a word. Vera felt the world was somewhat disappointing to-day; but in a minute or two her father reappeared, and hastily encircling both wife and child with his arm, he said gayly, "There, Sophy! kiss your little daughter, and congratulate her. She has made your fortune, and you can leave for home to-morrow, and engage a state cabin if you like."

"O Henry! what do you mean?" said the bewildered Mrs. Everest.

"Just what I say!" he declared. "Vera's gift to you is a diamond; and if I know anything, it will sell in Capetown for a good round sum. So don't fret any more, little woman, but pack up your traps and take your clever daughter with you, and we will start for Capetown to-night, so as to catch the first steamer for home."

Vera could not now think that her present was not enough appreciated, for Father would not let it out of his hand until he got to the jeweller's at Capetown, and had sold it for a large sum of money.

Vera and her mother sailed the very next day, and Grandma got better from the hour of their arrival. As for Mother, she was now always smiling; for with Grandma well, and no debts to worry her, she felt so happy that she seemed hardly to know how to be grateful enough.

Certainly there could not have been a more opportune present than Vera's Christmas Gift.