Charlotte woke the next morning feeling vaguely uncomfortable and wondering what was the reason for it. Suddenly it occurred to her that to-day she must see Ruth and must give a reason for not going to Boston with her. To explain what she had done with the money was out of the question, for Charlotte would have been more unwilling to tell of the performance of a good deed than to confess that she had done something wrong. If she gave no reason and simply said she couldn't go Ruth might think she was going to use the money for herself, and that would be unbearable. But, of course, it would be enough to say that it was Melina's only chance to go in town, and she couldn't disappoint her. The fact that her mother was still sick in bed would be sufficient reason why Charlotte couldn't leave on the same day.

Melina, herself, was cross, and worked as though she had a personal grudge against every dish and piece of furniture she touched. The twins and Molly were actually scared into silence, and forbore to make their usual demands on her time and patience. Charlotte, who understood, kept them and herself as much out of the way as possible, and helped all she could so that Melina might take an early train.

As soon as breakfast was over, Charlotte went to Mrs. Hamilton's and found Ruth just getting ready for her trip to Boston.

"Why, Charlotte, you're surely not ready so early as this," she said in surprise as her friend walked into her room.

"Why, no; the fact is I can't go to-day. Melina wants to go, and mother is still too sick to be left alone with the children. I came over early because I thought you might want to ask some one else."

"Oh, dear! Can't Melina wait till to-morrow? I'm dreadfully disappointed." Ruth looked so reproachful that Charlotte found it harder than she had anticipated.

"You see," she explained, "Melina wants to send something off to her nephew in Maine, and if she doesn't start it to-day it won't get there for Christmas."

"Bother Melina's nephew! I'd set my heart on having you with me to-day, and you know why."

Charlotte did know why, and much to her own sorrow. "I'm sorry it's happened so," she began, but Ruth interrupted her.

"It isn't really necessary for me to go to-day. Why can't we both go to-morrow? We don't mind if the stores are crowded."

Poor Charlotte looked positively unhappy. In all the labyrinth of thought through which she had wandered this exceedingly simple solution of the matter hadn't occurred to her.

"Why, I might," she stammered feeling her way. "No, I can't," she went on decidedly. "The truth is, Ruth, I'm not going to buy any Christmas presents this year, after all."

"Oh," said Ruth coldly. "Then, of course, you won't want to go in town."

"No, I think I'd better not. I'm sorry,—I can't explain."

"You don't need to explain. You have a perfect right to do as you please, of course." Ruth's tone was so freezingly polite that Charlotte almost shivered.

"I must run back home," she said at last with an attempt at cheerfulness. "Would you like to have me ask Betty or Dolly to go with you?"

"No, thank you," and Ruth busied herself in the tying of a bow with such complete absorption that Charlotte felt that the best and only thing she could do was to go. She was so absorbed in her own disagreeable thoughts that she plodded along through the snow with her head down, and almost ran over Joe, who was patiently standing in the middle of the walk hoping for just that result.

"Why don't you warn a fellow when you are coming down upon him like a ship under full sail, Charlotte?" he asked with pretended indignation.

"Get right out of my way, little boy," answered Charlotte, with assumed scorn. "I suppose now that vacation has begun you children will be under my feet all the time."

Joe chuckled softly. He would have been disappointed if Charlotte had answered in any other way.

"What's the matter with you, Charlotte?" he asked as she passed him and he fell into line behind her. "You look as though you had lost your last friend."

"I feel so," remarked Charlotte briefly, and in a flash was sorry she had said it.

"I didn't think Ruth was that kind," Joe said after a pause.

"What kind? She isn't. There isn't anything the matter, and it's all my fault. Ruth's all right, and I don't blame her a bit."

Joe grinned appreciatively behind her back over this mixed statement of affairs. Then he said, "Good for you, Charlotte. You're all right, too. What are you going to do this morning?"

"Shovel snow. It's the only kind of work that I really enjoy."

"Let me help. I like to shovel snow when it isn't in my own yard."

"Run off and play with the other boys," answered Charlotte ungratefully. "I have the twins and Molly on my hands, and that will be enough for one day."

"Don't be foolish and refuse a good thing when it's offered you," said Joe good-naturedly. "I'll help you amuse them."

"Well, come along in then, and read while I get the children ready. Oh, they're out now," she added, as they turned the comer and saw the twins, looking like industrious brownies, rolling a huge snowball across the yard, while Molly was expending her artistic talent on the building of a snow-man.

The clean snow-drifts, glittering in the sunshine, fired Charlotte with the desire to play as she used to play when a child. "Get the shovels, Joe," she commanded, "and after we've cleared the piazza, let's build a snow-house and freeze it."

"And my man can be the man that owns it, out for a walk in his garden," chimed in Molly, who had been too much absorbed in her work to speak before.

"Nice weather for gardening," said Joe with a wink, as he started after the shovels.

Work is a cure for many sorrows, and Charlotte felt her heart grow lighter as she helped Joe cut great blocks of snow and pile them symmetrically. Betty, who had wandered over to see Charlotte, proved a most efficient helper, and Frank and Bert, driving by almost hidden under the branches of a stately Christmas tree, shouted their greetings and came back later to join in the work.

Both boys and girls worked hard, and the result was a snow hut large enough to shelter a good-sized family of Esquimaux. An arched doorway gave entrance to the interior, which was divided into two rooms. It had taken a large amount of snow to build it, and really much skill, for the day was growing warmer and it was almost impossible to make the structure firm enough to stand.

"There," said Charlotte, as she stuck a tiny American flag just over the entrance, "I consider that the finishing touch. Now if you boys will come over this afternoon and freeze it it will probably last for some time."

"What a short morning!" exclaimed Betty as the church clock struck twelve. "I'm as warm as toast and as hungry as a bear."

"Come in and help me get out the lunch Melina left for us," begged Charlotte, "and then we can rest till the boys come over this afternoon."

The boys left in a cloud of snowballs, but Joe found a chance to say softly to Charlotte as he passed her, "Feeling better, Charlotte? You look it."

"Run along and don't be foolish," answered Charlotte disdainfully.

"Goodness! Melina must have thought she was going to feed an army," laughed Betty, as Charlotte brought out sandwiches, cookies, brown bread and a plate heaped with the cunning apple turnovers for which Melina was famous. "Doesn't everything look good?"

"Don't you want to make us some cocoa, Bettina? Yours is so good."

Betty laughed. "Of course, you sly old thing. You know I love to show off on cooking, don't you?"

"Good reason why; because you're so clever about it. I wish I weren't such a stupid about doing all the things a girl is expected to do, and I truly wish I didn't hate it all so."

"You can do other things," answered Betty loyally; "things I'd be only too glad to do if I could. You ought to have heard all the nice things Ruth said about you the other day."

Charlotte's heart sank. The joy of working in the keen, clear air had almost made her forget the unpleasantness of the morning. Now it ail came back to her with a rush. Ruth would never again say nice things about her, and there would be an end, of course, to ail the delightful intimacy which had seemed to promise so much pleasure for the winter.

"Charlotte, Charlotte, Irving is climbing on the table to get a turnover," announced Molly in a tone of dignified disapproval, and Charlotte came to the rescue just in time to defeat the plans of the small pirate, whose schemes for getting what he wanted were without end.

It was a jolly lunch, for they were all too hungry to notice Charlotte's sudden depression, and the twins kept Betty in a perpetual state of amusement. To Charlotte, however, the tempting food might as well have been something far less appetizing, for the keen discomfort she was feeling took away all sense of pleasure.

"I don't believe I want to work any more on the snow-house," she said soberly, as she and Betty finished putting away the dishes. "You and the boys can finish up if you like, but I'm almost too tired to move."

"Well, I don't care," answered Betty good-naturedly. "I ought to be working on my Christmas presents anyway, and I've had a pretty good airing this morning. Can't you bring some sewing over to my house?"

"Sewing! You know I hate it. I hate Christmas presents, too, and
I shall be glad when Christmas is over."

Betty gazed at her in such consternation that Charlotte couldn't help laughing. "Don't mind me, Bettikins," she said penitently; "I'm a cross, disagreeable thing, and I ought to know better, Only, if you love me, don't say Christmas anywhere in my neighborhood, or I shall certainly explode into some badness."

Betty looked puzzled, but wisely refrained from asking any questions. "Don't make yourself out too much of a villain," she said with a comforting pat, "for I shan't believe it, and I shall keep on liking you just the same."

With a look at the twins and Molly, who were safely at work in the snow, Charlotte went up-stairs to her mother, wishing in her heart that she could take her troubles to her as other girls did to their mothers, but knowing from long experience that nothing of the kind was possible. Mrs. Eastman had been so long an invalid that Charlotte could hardly remember the time when it had not been the first object of her father, and later of herself, to spare her mother every care and excitement. To-day was one of Mrs. Eastman's better days, and Charlotte found her dressed and sitting by the window when she went in with the tray.

"Why, mother, how good it seems to see you sitting up," she said happily; "are you really feeling better?"

"Yes, really better; so much so that I thought I would give my good little daughter a pleasant surprise when she came up to see me."

Charlotte looked at her mother with delight. It was many weeks since she had heard that cheerful tone, had seen the blue eyes so clear, and the sweet face so untroubled.

"Oh, Mumsey, you are so pretty when you don't have that horrid pain," she said, setting the tray on the table and kneeling down to rest her head on her mother's knee.

Mrs. Eastman laughed softly, and patted the tired head with a tender hand. "I'm glad I look pretty to you," she said. "But where are Molly and the twins?"

"Out in the yard digging in the snow. The boys and Betty were here this morning, and we made a grand snow-house, but no one has come back to finish up." Charlotte looked out as she spoke and opened the window a crack to remind Irving that he couldn't prance around on top of the snow-house, because it wasn't strong enough yet for such treatment.

"Don't you believe you'll be able to come down-stairs pretty soon? Perhaps you can be with us on Christmas Day; oh, Mumsey," and Charlotte glowed with delighted anticipation. "It won't make so very much difference, after all," she added soberly, "for Christmas won't be much different from any other day."

"Yes, it will; it shall, darling," said Mrs. Eastman. "I know we can't spend much money for presents, but we'll trim the house, and we'll have popcorn and apples and—"

Just what her mother intended to add Charlotte never knew, for a wild shriek from the yard made her rush to the window in terror. At first she could not tell what had happened. Then she realized that Molly was dancing wildly around wringing her hands, that Irving's startled face and sturdy shoulders were emerging from the ruins of the snow-house, and that no one else was in sight.

"Stanley, where is Stanley?" she called, opening the window wide.

"Under the snow," shrieked Molly. "He can't get out, he can't get out."

Charlotte said afterward that she never felt sure whether she went out of the window or over the stairs. She realized only that some one came swiftly behind her and she screamed, "Go back, go back; I'll get him out."

But the figure kept silently on, and, before Charlotte could prevent, her mother was pulling Irving with all her strength.

"Help me lift him," she cried piteously; "my other baby is under all this snow."

No one knew better than Charlotte the weight of snow which had fallen on poor Stanley, and she felt sick with terror as they at last set Irving on his feet.

"Run for Dr. Holland, Molly, and tell the neighbors to come here," she said in a voice sharp with fear. Then she seized a shovel which lay near and began to lift off the snow with a care and slowness which made her mother frantic,

"Give me the shovel, Charlotte; my baby will smother while you work so slowly."

"Stop, mother," answered Charlotte. "We may hurt him if we use the shovel any more. Now I must use my hands."

It seemed hours before Charlotte, plunging in the snow and throwing it aside with her arms and her whole body, felt the touch of her brother's coat. And then still hours before she could draw out the limp, little body.

"Give him to me," cried Mrs. Eastman snatching him to her breast, and running toward the house. "Get hot water, Charlotte, and blankets." Charlotte tried to run, but couldn't. She was vaguely conscious that a sleigh had stopped outside the gate, that figures were hurrying toward the house, that Joe, looking exceedingly red and anxious but withal rather indistinct, had almost reached her, and then she forgot everything.

When she opened her eyes she was on the library sofa, and Mrs. Hamilton and Betty were smiling reassuringly at her. She looked at them a moment without speaking, and then all that had happened came sharply back to her.

"Where is Stanley?" she cried, starting up in alarm.

"Stanley is all right, dear," answered Mrs. Hamilton, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Dr. Holland says that by to-morrow he won't know that anything has happened to him."

"And mother? She was out there in the cold and snow."

"She says it hasn't hurt her a bit and she will insist on staying up to take care of Stanley. Truly they are all right, Charlotte, and you mustn't worry." Betty's tone was so motherly and insistent that Charlotte couldn't help smiling. She closed her eyes sleepily and didn't even trouble to open them when she felt herself lifted from the sofa and carried up-stairs.

When she awoke it was quite dark in the room except for the light from the open fire. She could hear in the sitting-room a subdued murmur of voices, and now and then Irving's giggle, promptly suppressed by the stern Molly. As she lay there in drowsy comfort Melina stole into the room and coming softly to the bed peered sharply at her.

"Hullo," said Charlotte with a suddeness that made Melina jump.
"What time is it, and how is every one?"

"Goodness, I thought you was asleep. They're all right. I've just made your ma go to bed, though she declares she never felt better in her life. Stanley's sitting up on the sofa with the pillows ail around him, feeling like a little king, and Molly's proud as Punch to be nurse. Now what would you like for your supper?"

"My! Is it supper-time? Oh, bring me anything good. You know what
I like."

"There's a girl in the kitchen—the one that's staying with Mrs. Hamilton. She wanted I should come up to see how you are, and she says she'll come to see you just as soon as you want her."

"Oh, ask her to come now, Melina, please. I feel quite well enough to see her."

Melina began to protest, but Charlotte's eagerness conquered, and she went grumbling down-stairs to call Ruth.

"Oh, Charlotte, you're a dear to let me come and tell you how mean I feel. I don't believe I should have slept to-night if I couldn't 'fess up' to somebody."

Charlotte looked at her in astonishment and Ruth went on, "You see I know all about what you did with the money, for Melina sat with me coming out on the train."

"Melina told you!" said Charlotte, hardly able to believe her own ears.

"Yes, I remembered her face and said something to her. She was so full of joy over having sent the bed off to her nephew that before she knew it she had told me all about him, and about the five dollars, too."

"She probably won't tell anything again in a hundred years," murmured Charlotte, looking so embarrassed and uncomfortable that Ruth couldn't help seeing it.

"You're a funny girl to be so ashamed of your good deeds. But, honestly, Charlotte, I'll never tell if you don't want me to. I'm simply bowed down with shame myself to think I was so mean and hateful this morning."

"Oh, that's ail right, Ruth," said Charlotte warmly, "and I'm not going to be horrid about Christmas any more. I think this will be the happiest one I've ever had."