It was not until the following Friday evening, when each girl in charge of a table had made her report, that Miss Phillips was able to add up the total receipts from the sales at the bazaar. At last she looked up with a happy smile.

"Four hundred and twenty-two dollars!" she announced; and the girls broke into uproarious applause.

"Since this is our last meeting in the old year," she went on, "I especially want the new girls to take their Tenderfoot tests. But before that, and before we talk over the Christmas plans that Ruth Henry suggested several weeks ago, I desire to read you some letters.

"I went to the office of our little local newspaper, The Star, and asked whether any poor children had written to Santa Claus through them.

"The woman in charge was awfully nice; she smiled sort of tenderly, as if all the children belonged to her.

"'Indeed we have,' she replied, opening a drawer. 'Look at this bunch.'

"And she handed me these"—Miss Phillips held up a handful of torn, dirty pieces of all kinds of paper, except writing paper—"and I discovered there were thirty-two of them, all so quaint and funny. So I said I would put the matter up to you Scouts to-night, and report to her to-morrow."

"Oh, let's give them a party, and a tree, and the presents they want," cried Marjorie, anxious for everyone to know that she did not want to monopolize all of the money for Frieda.

"Read them, please, Captain!" begged Frances.

Miss Phillips opened two or three, selected one, and read slowly, apparently encountering difficulty in the spelling:

After that she read half a dozen or so, each one as laboriously composed as the first, asking St. Nicholas to bring them the things nearest their hearts.

"But when could we have the party?" asked the Captain. "It's too soon to have it this Saturday afternoon, and next week the older children will have school."

"Couldn't we have it at four o'clock?" suggested Ethel; "I should think we could keep them out until half-past five, and then we could take them home ourselves, because, of course, it would be too dark by then for them to go alone."

They decided upon Thursday afternoon, for the girls were to leave Miss Allen's at noon on Friday; and a hundred dollars was appropriated for the party and the presents.

The time seemed all too short for the committee in charge; indeed, every member of the troop served in some way. Miss Phillips took Frances and Ethel to the city with her to select the presents and the tree ornaments; four of the girls wrote the invitations, and half a dozen were to attend to the refreshments and decorations. Lily Andrews, because she was stout and jolly, was awarded the supreme honor of being Santa Claus; and she spent much time preparing her costume.

At last everything was in readiness, and the Scouts gathered in the gymnasium. A big tree stood in the center, glistening with tinsel and shining with brightly colored balls. Underneath, attractively wrapped in Christmas paper and ribbon, the presents were invitingly piled. Santa Claus, with several of the girls who were to assist "him," was hidden in Miss Phillips's office.

The guests—everyone of the thirty-two ragged little children, and several additional younger brothers and sisters besides—arrived, dressed in what was probably their best clothes—just as the little Ruggles came to Carol's famous party in "The Birds' Christmas Carol." Edith and Frances received them at the door and helped them remove their coats and hats.

With exclamations of "Oh!" and "Ah!" they stood perfectly still, lost in admiration of the Christmas tree. They had never seen such a lovely one before.

"Will everyone please sit down upon the pillows?" asked Miss Phillips, indicating a row of sofa cushions arranged around the tree.

Doris Sands and Emily Rankin gave out the popcorn and candy toys. The children were too much awe-struck to think of talking. They just sat still and gazed, all the while sucking their candy, and looking expectantly at the alluring parcels under the tree.

In a short time, from the direction of the office, a great chorus of song came:

the famous old Christmas carol that children and grown people everywhere love.

When the last notes of the song had died away, Edith Evans, the story-teller of the group, related the pretty little legend of "Why the Chimes Rang"—telling how a small boy, who had only ten cents to give at Christmas time, gave it with his whole heart, and the magical chimes, which sounded only for great gifts, and which had been silent now for many years, rang out through the clear stillness of that Christmas night.

There is perhaps no other Christmas story which contains the real Christmas spirit so much as this one, with its simple message of whole-hearted giving; and it did not fail to produce the desired effect. The children were just in the mood of what followed: the appearance of Santa Claus!

With a jolly "Ha! Ha!" and the ringing of sleigh bells, he came in through the open door carrying a huge pack on his back, and was greeted with tremendous applause.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the notes and held them up to examine.

"I got every one of your letters," he said, "and I hope you will all be satisfied with your presents. I have tried to do the best I could. Ha! Ha! Ha! Christmas is a jolly time!"

Santa's laughter was so real and his enjoyment so genuine that the children beamed with happiness. It seemed as if their dreams had really come true.

"Here's a package for Mary Connelly," he said, taking off his pack; "and here's one for Peter Myers."

The children hesitated a moment, and then went forward to receive their gifts. Edith and Frances brought the others out from beneath the tree, and there were half a dozen left over, even after the unexpected guests had been provided for.

"And a box of candy for everybody," concluded Santa Claus, reaching for the pile of boxes, each wrapped in white paper, and handing them to his helpers.

"And now I must be gone!" he said. "I've many places to visit before Christmas day. A merry Christmas to all!" he cried, and as they answered, "The same to you!" he vanished through the doorway. The tingling of sleighbells announced the fact that he had gone.

The short winter day was drawing to a close, and the children suddenly realized, as they were looking at their presents, that it was getting quite dark. But in an instant, as if by magic, the tree was alight with many gaily-colored electric bulbs, which gleamed and sparkled so gloriously that they all gasped and gazed in wonder.

While the refreshments were being prepared, Ethel and Doris started a game, to the winner of which a prize "stocking" was given. Just as this was concluded, Miss Phillips called that they were ready.

Behind the tree there had been a row of screens to hide the preparations. Now these were removed, and the most beautiful sight that the children had ever seen appeared before their eyes. A table piled with goodies of every kind decorated with holly and mistletoe and Christmas candles and candies. Three large bowls in the center of the table contained red strings which extended to every child's place.

The little guests sat down and pulled their red ribbons—and to their great delight, each received another present. Then they began to eat. There were chicken sandwiches, and cocoa with whipped cream, and ice-cream, cake, candy, fruit, and nuts. The Scouts simply loaded their plates, telling them that they might carry home what they could not eat.

They were having such a delightful party that they were all surprised when six o'clock came, and Miss Phillips gave the signal for departure. The Scouts put on their hats and coats, and, with their arms laden with goodies, and gifts, and holly, the children returned to the village.

Lily reappeared, dressed in her Scout uniform, to accompany them. One of the children, who had been looking at her closely for several minutes, exclaimed abruptly,

"Santa Claus is a Girl Scout!"

The Scouts burst out laughing.

"He was this time," explained Edith, kindly; "for the real Santa had too much to do, so he asked us to help him."

"You are all Santa Clauses!" corrected the child. "I think Girl Scouts are the most nicest people in the whole world!"

And Pansy troop, to the last girl, was satisfied with the work it had accomplished and the real Christmas cheer it had brought to these children's hearts.