“CHRISTMAS is coming! Christmas is coming!”

That is what little Lucy sang as she went through the hall with a hop, skip and jump, clapping her hands for joy.

“And what is little daughter going to do to make somebody happy on Christmas day?”

Papa asked this as he came out into the hall. Then he kissed Lucy good-by, took down his hat from the rack, and went out of the front door before she had time to tell him.

Lucy stopped running, and looked out of the window and thought about it.

Then she went upstairs to mamma and said:

“Mamma, what am I going to do to make somebody happy to-morrow? What can little girls do?”

“You can be just as sweet as a rose all day, and obey mamma as soon as she speaks. That will make me very happy,” said mamma.

“But I want to give something to somebody to s’prise ’em and make ’em glad,” Lucy said.

“Who is there that you would like to surprise?” her mamma asked.

Lucy thought a minute, then she said:

“Mrs. Bly.”

Mrs. Bly lived in the “Home for Aged Women.” She was a nice old lady, and Lucy often went with her mother to call upon her.

“Very well, dear,” said mamma; “there is your gold dollar; if you want to give it you may.”

“May I buy ’zactly what I please, mamma?”

“Yes, dear.”

“O, how nice!” said Lucy. “Can’t we go now, right off, to buy it?”

Mamma said “Yes” again, and Lucy ran off to get her hood and cloak and mittens. In a few minutes she was out on the street with mamma, gazing into all the shop windows. “What shall I buy? What shall I buy?” she kept asking.

Mamma said a little shawl for Mrs. Bly’s shoulders would be nice, or a pair of warm stockings or some handkerchiefs. But Lucy shook her head.

“Wouldn’t she like a bu’ful dollie or a sweet little kitty better?” she asked.

Mamma had to laugh at that.

Just then Lucy cried out, “There it is! I see it! That is what I want.”

Guess what it was.

It was a beautiful large rosebush in a pretty pot. There were two roses on it and plenty of buds.

So they went in and bought it. The man said he would send it up right away.

Old Mrs. Bly was sitting in her rocking-chair knitting. There came a knock at the door. She opened it, and who should be there but Lucy and her mamma, and a boy with a rosebush!

How surprised Mrs. Bly was, and how pleased, when she knew that little Lucy bought the plant with her own money.

“You dear little lamb,” she said; “it will make me very happy. It is like the roses in my old home.”

When Christmas morning came Mrs. Bly cut off one of those lovely roses and put it in a vase. She carried it to a poor old lady across the hall who was ill in bed, and it made her glad.

So you see little Lucy made three people happy that Christmas day—the sick old lady, Mrs. Bly and herself.

Mrs. C. M. Livingston.