Matilda, clutching the precious letter in her greedy fingers, said quite importantly, "Now, children, you can come and look over me while I read it."

"Children!" snorted Mark, in a fury. "I'm twice as big as you. Give that letter here, Tilly Hansell," making a dash for it.

"I ain't a-goin' to, ain't, ain't," screamed Matilda, in a fright, and commencing a mad rush around the kitchen. Then, seeing Mark gaining on her, and Jane running to head her off and deliver her up to him, she turned suddenly and flung the letter into the little widow's lap, where she still crouched on the floor.

"It's Mammy's letter, anyway; 'tain't yours," she cried triumphantly.

"Mammy, can't I read it?" cried Mark, throwing himself down by her side, and spreading his red, chapped hand over the letter.

"Read what?" said Mrs. Hansell, lifting her dazed face.

"Your letter. 'Twas in the box," said Mark, clapping his other hand on it, too, and keeping a sharp lookout for Matilda's next move.

"Mayn't I? I had it before he did, Mammy." Matilda flung herself down by the little woman's side. "Mark's awful mean—he's always pickin' and grabbin'."

"I don't know what you mean, children," said the little widow, turning perplexed eyes from one to the other.

"Well, I'll tell you," cried Mark. "Now keep still, Matilda. You've got a letter, Mammy, in the box, and mayn't I read it?"

"I've got a letter?" repeated little Mrs. Hansell, in a bewildered way.

"Yes, yes," cried Matilda, impatiently. "Now, Mark Hansell, it's mine; I had it first." With that she slapped his red hands with her two little fists. "Anyhow, I'll keep mine on top of yours," suiting the action to the words.

"You won't get the letter," said Mark, with a grin, flattening his hands tightly over it. "Mammy, mayn't I read it? Do hurry an' say yes. Tilly's actin' just awful."

"I've got a letter?" repeated Mrs. Hansell, looking around the old kitchen. When her glance reached the big box, and pile of bundles scattered about, she clasped her hands and burst into tears. "It's too good to be true," she cried; "I can't believe it."

"Why, the box is there. See it," and Mark unguardedly hopped to his feet, ran up to it, and slapped it triumphantly with a resounding thwack.

"There—Mark Hansell, I've got it!" He turned to see Matilda, too excited to keep still, waving the letter, and hopping from one foot to the other. When she saw Mark coming, she wisely took refuge under her mother's arm, within which she tucked the letter, gripped fast in her hand.

Mrs. Hansell sat up suddenly. "Did you say there was a letter come in that box?" she demanded, unwonted energy coming into her pale, tired eyes.

"Yes, I've been a-tellin' you so for ever so long," said Mark, in great chagrin, "an' now Tilly's grabbed it away from me."

"I didn't; I had it before," said Matilda, squirming up tightly to her mother.

"Give me that letter," said her mother.

Matilda, with anxious eyes on Mark, set the letter, now much wrinkled, in her mother's thin hand, and held her breath in suspense.

"Well, as Matthew ain't here," casting a glance around the kitchen, "you're the next biggest, Mark, so you may read it," at last said Mrs. Hansell.

"Ow!" grumbled Matilda, very much discomfited.

Mark, too jubilant to get the letter, wasted no time in his triumph, but, sitting down on the floor in front of his mother, spread it out, and began his attempt to find out what it said. Jane came up and planted herself by his side.

"'Mrs. Hansell,'" read Mark, quite fluently.

"Matthew read that," said Matilda, sourly.

"You stop," said Mark, without looking at her; "I'm reading this to Mammy. 'Mrs. Hansell, I remember you did my washing last summer.'"

"Hoh! He ain't readin'; he's only sayin' what Matthew read, Mammy. Mammy, Matthew's read all that." Matilda got up to her knees and hugged her mother around the throat.

"Sit down," said Mrs. Hansell. The conviction that she really had a box had been slow in growing, but now that she was sure of it, it was quite time to set up authority equal to such magnificence.

Matilda slid down meekly, her arms falling away in amazement to her lap.

"'You a-p-p-e-a-r-e-d—'" Mark stuck fast on the word that had floored Matthew, and helplessly shook his head.

"What is it?" demanded his mother. Since she really had a letter, she was going to have every word of it.

So Mark began again, but it was no use. Flounder and guess as he might, it was impossible to say what that dreadful assortment of letters might mean.

"Oh, well, if you can't read it, Mark," said Mrs. Hansell, coolly, "I must get some one who can."

"Let me try, Mammy, let me," begged Matilda, with two eager little hands thrust out.

"I can read the next words," declared Mark, hanging on to the letter like grim death.

"No, the next ones won't do. I must have the whole of the letter," said Mrs. Hansell, with great dignity. "Yes, you can try now, Matilda," and she picked the sheet from Mark's hand, to be hungrily seized by Matilda.

"She can't read any better'n a pig," said Mark in great scorn. "Now, what is it, Matilda Hansell?"

Matilda turned her shoulders on him, and spelled backward and forward, up and down, with the greatest vigor, but all to no purpose. Her face was red as fire, and she had all she could do to keep from crying, but still she struggled on.

"No, that won't do. You can't read it either," said Mrs. Hansell at length, in the midst of Mark's "What did I tell you, Mammy? Ho! Ho!"

"Now, children, it's just this way," she continued, "some one has got to read that letter, 'cause it explains th' whole thing,—th' box an' all,—so one of you may take it down to the minister an' ask him to please read it for me."

"Oh, let me, Mammy, let me," cried Matilda, seizing her mother's arm.

"No, me; I'm goin'; I'm the biggest," said Mark, having no relish that Matilda should see the inside of the parson's house before he did. Besides, on that important errand!

"Yes, I'm not sure but you ought to go, seem' Matthew ain't here," said Mrs. Hansell.

"O dear!" Matilda flung herself flat on the floor with such wails that Susan crept up, her mouth full of chewed paper, to see what it was all about.

"Hush making such a noise! Well, you may go, too," said their mother. "Oh, mercy me, what you been a-eatin', Susan? Spit it right out this minute," as she gathered her up in her arms.

"An' I'm a-goin' to carry th' letter," declared Matilda, racing up with her tattered old hood and the remnant of a black cloak, "so there!" bobbing her head at Mark.

"No such thing. I shall carry it; I'm the biggest," said Mark, decidedly.

"So you always say," cried Matilda, fretfully, and taking out a pin from her mouth, she brought the two sides of the hood together in a fashion that kept it on at least.

"Well, an' I am," said Mark, "so I always shall say it."

"Mammy, can't I carry the letter part way to the minister's?" begged Matilda, running over to her mother.

"You're not goin' to," declared Mark, stiffly, and marching off to the door.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Hansell, poking out with her finger the chewed wads of paper that appeared to be the last packed away in Susan's mouth. "Dear me, it's a wonder you ain't choked to death. What'd you say? Oh, yes, you may carry it part way. There, there!" as she set the squirming baby straight on her lap.

"There, Mammy says I can," Matilda shouted triumphantly, and spinning around on one set of toes, till the old hood slipped away from the pin and fell to the floor.

"Did you, Mammy?" cried Mark, running back to Mrs. Hansell.

"Did I what?" asked his mother. "Dear me, I wonder how much this child has swallowed."

"Say Matilda could carry the letter part way?"

"Yes, I did. Now hurry along an' behave, both of you. An' be quick, or I'll send Jane after all, and keep you to home."

This would be so much worse than giving up the letter for half the distance, that Mark took himself off without delay. Matilda scuttled after and slammed the old door as tight as it would shut.

It was certainly an hour by the old clock that wheezed crazily in the corner, and struck whatever time it chose, when steps were heard coming up the frozen path. The door burst open, and in rushed Matilda and Mark, and after them, at a slower pace, as befitted his calling, Mr. St. John, the minister of the mountain parish. The rest of the family sat in gloomy or impatient silence around the big box. All but Matthew; he was radiant in an overcoat, that, had anybody attempted to fit to him, certainly couldn't have been more of a success. And all around his neck was tied a thick, red woollen tippet that seemed to possess no end, so much was left that was wound generously around his head. He was strutting up and down the old kitchen floor, patting his shaggy sleeves, and feeling the thickness of the overcoat skirts, and saying "Ah!" in a tone of the greatest satisfaction.

Luke, unable to take his eyes from him, followed every movement silently, while Elvira, nearly bursting with impatience, sat on the floor, alternately drumming on the side of the big box and bullying Jane, when unfortunate enough to get in her way.

"There! Now let's open the bundles," screamed Elvira, hopping to her feet. "Mark and Tilly have come!"

"For shame, Elviry," reproved her mother, sharply, who now came in from the bedroom, after seeing that Susan was really asleep, and not in convulsions over a diet of paper wads. "Can't you see the minister comin'? Oh, good day, sir!" She dropped him what was meant for a courtesy, and, wiping off a chair with her blue checked apron, she looked around on all her little group for their best behavior.

"I thought it better to come myself, my good woman," said the minister. He was quite young, this being his first parish, and only regarded as a sort of missionary effort to get his hand in after the theological seminary. "Ah—I quite forget your name, madam, as you are so seldom at church."

"Hansell, sir," said the little widow, with another effort at a courtesy. "An' I live so far, sir, from the church, it's not easy gettin' there, if you please." She did not add, "And how can I, without anything to wear?"

"Ah, yes, no doubt," answered the Rev. Mr. St. John, reassuringly. "Well, I considered it best to come and read the letter to you myself, as it contains important directions. I will do so now," and he spread it open on one hand, all the family coming up, even Matthew, losing sight for a moment of his new splendor.

"'Mrs. Hansell,'" read the minister, clearing his throat, "'I remember you did my washing last summer. You appeared to have a great many children, so I thought I would send you a box. Some of the articles are selected with reference to the ages of the members of your family. For instance, the overcoat and the red tippet are for your biggest boy.'"

"I know it," cried Matthew, unable to keep still, and beginning to strut again. "I've got it on."

The minister looked and nodded at him. This unloosed Matthew's tongue, who, before that, had been afraid of him. "I tell you what, it's bully!" he declared, peering out from the folds of the red tippet; "an' this, too," patting his head.

"So 'tis," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, with a little laugh.

"'There are some jackets and trousers for the other boys.'"

"Ow!" Mark and Luke both gave a howl together and darted off toward the pile of bundles.

"Come back this minute," demanded the little widow, sharply. "And, oh, sir, would you mind reading real smart like," she said to the minister, "'cause we can't wait much longer to see what's in them bundles." She was twisting her apron-end now with nervous fingers, and a red spot mounted to either thin cheek.

"Indeed, I will," said the young man, obligingly. "Well, let me see, where was I? Oh,—'The other things you will know quite well how to dispose of.

"'Now I wish you to allow me to have three of your children—your two oldest boys and one girl—to stay a few weeks at my house. This will help you, and I do not doubt that I shall get some amusement out of it. The girl will make the boys behave, I feel quite sure. You may choose which daughter; it makes no difference to me. Ask Mr. St. John, the minister, you know, to put them on the train under the care of the conductor, and then to telegraph me. I enclose a check for all expenses. And I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

"Well, well, well." The Rev. Mr. St. John spread the letter on his knee, then fell to stroking his chin, where he was fondly expecting a beard some fine day. "To think of that old money bags," he was going to say, but pulled himself up in time.

"I did do her washing," the little widow was standing in front of him, still twitching her apron-end, "and she was awful cross, and—"

"Well, something has happened to change her," said the minister, "there's no denying. As I remember last summer, she was not a pleasant person to talk to."

"An' that she wasn't," said Mrs. Hansell. "She was that partik'ler 'bout a cent in change. But that box—" she stopped and turned her eyes over toward it.

"Yes, the box, and the invitation for the children to visit her," said the minister. "You can't get around these facts without believing she's entirely changed."

"The what?" said the little widow.

"Why, the invitation for the children, at least three of them, to visit her," said the young man.

"An' where'd she say that, if you please?"

"Why, I just read it to you," he said, a trifle impatiently.

"Oh, no, excuse me, sir." The poor woman's head was now turning from side to side in bewilderment; the children, who had understood as little, beginning to clamor lustily for the bundles to be opened.

Upon this the Rev. Mr. St. John said, "Stop, this moment!" bringing down his foot, "Just as he slaps the Bible," whispered Elvira, who had been to church one eventful Sunday. "I will read it to you again," which he did.

"And now, what have you done with the check?"

"Check? I don't know what you mean," said the little widow, utterly incapable of understanding anything more after that invitation!

"Why, the check,—dear me,—the money she sent."

"She hasn't sent me no money. She paid me for the washing when she was here," said Mrs. Hansell.

"I mean the money she sent in the letter," he shook it at her; "the paper check to pay for the children's railroad fare. Where is it?"

"I hain't seen no money," said Mrs. Hansell, putting up her hand uncertainly to her poor bewildered head.

Thereupon the minister decided to take matters into his own hands. So getting off from his chair, "Children," he said, "not one of these bundles can be opened until we find something that has been dropped out of this letter. A little strip of paper."

"I guess Susan's et it," said Elvira, cheerfully.

"Oh, no, that cannot be."

"Yes, 'tis," she defied him, "she's been eatin' paper just awful."

"Well, look for it as hard as you can. I'll help you." The minister dropped to all fours, and together they all looked over the papers and bundles strewn in confusion around the big box. No strip of paper was to be seen.

"This is very dreadful," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, at last, getting up to his feet, and snapping off the wisps of straw from his clothes, which he was glad to reflect were not his best ones.

"Now can't we open the bundles?" screamed Matilda.

"Yes, can't we? can't we?" begged the others, except Matthew, who was wholly concerned in himself and his new attire.

"Everythin's out of the old box," said Mark, giving it a kick.

"Yes, everythin'," said Elvira, taking a flying leap past it, and peering in once more, "'cept an old scrap o' paper." She dived into its depths and brought up a long, thin strip, which she waved disdainfully before casting it off. At sight of which, the minister sprang and twisted it out of her hands. "Oh, the check! Well, I am thankful that's found!"

But this fell on careless ears after all. For was not the opening of the wonderful bundles at last to be allowed! And for the next half hour nothing was heard but the tearing of paper, the bursting of string, and the howls of delight from the young brood and the half-frightened, tearful ejaculations from the little mother. No one stopped in the process of unfolding the treasures, except to dig the teeth into a cracker or a bun, too hungry to wait.

"Tea, Mammy!" Mark bundled a package that spilt half its contents into his mother's lap, then rushed back for more treasures.

"Thank the Lord!" she cried, involuntarily, and hungrily gathering up each morsel.

The minister turned aside his face to look out of the window, pretending to see something very attractive in the drear winter landscape, and so the babel went on.

At last all the unfolding was done. "Now then," said the Rev. Mr. St. John, "you understand, don't you, that Matthew and Mark are to go, and one of the girls, to visit Mrs. Van Ruypen?"

"See my new dress," interrupted Matilda, prancing up with a red merino gown, resplendent in gilt buttons all down the back.

"That's mine," said Elvira, dropping the blue one, which she had selected, now that she saw how pretty the red one looked.

"'Tain't either. This is too big for you. Anyway, it's mine," said Matilda, folding it within her arms, and getting off the kitchen-length from her sister.

"Children, children, stop quarrelling," commanded the minister.

"Huh, I ain't afraid o' him," said Elvira to Luke, and pointing to the minister, who since he had been down on the floor with them, hunting for the check, had seemed quite one of the family.

"Now which one of the girls shall you allow to go to Madam Van Ruypen's?" asked the minister. "She has left it to you, Mrs. Hansell."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said helplessly.

"You can send which one you like," he said kindly, and smiling down at her encouragingly.

"Well, Elviry ain't goin', anyway," said Matthew, with great decision.

"Where?" Elvira dropped her blue gown in a heap, and ran up to her mother's chair. "Where ain't I goin', Mammy?" but she looked up into the minister's face for the reply.

"Oh, visiting with Matthew and Mark," he said laughingly at her.

"What's visiting?"

"Oh, a little journey. But be quiet now, and give your mother time to think."

"What's a journey?" demanded Elvira, without the least hesitation.

"Oh, going away on the cars."

"Are Matthew and Mark goin'?" asked Elvira, with a long breath, and very big eyes.

"Yes. Well, Mrs. Hansell, what do you say?"

"I don't know."

"I'm goin'; I'm goin'," announced Elvira, capering away.

"Be quiet, child, your mother hasn't decided," said the minister.

"I'm goin'; I'm goin'," Elvira kept on, shouting and dancing away as hard as she could, which presently brought the other two girls up to their mother's chair with a clamor to know what it was all about.

When it was explained, the trouble was so great the minister had more than two minds to flee the scene and let the little widow get out of it as best she might. At last a happy thought struck him.

"Mrs. Hansell, you might let them draw," he said; "strips of paper, you know. Now that's the very idea!" He clapped his hands like a boy. "Now, Matthew, get the pieces."

"It's the littlest, ain't it?" said Matthew, hurrying, as fast as the dignity of the great coat and tippet would allow, to obey the minister.

"No, no, the longest," said the minister, laughing. "Now, girls, you must stand in a row—there—and toe that crack. That's it," as they scuttled into place on the old kitchen floor. "Now then, my boy, hurry up." He was as excited as the children themselves, and found it as difficult to wait.

"Now shut your eyes," and he turned his eyes on the line of girls, while Matthew handed him the little strips.

"Tilly's peekin'," announced Luke.

"I ain't," said Matilda, twisting her eyelids tightly together; "not a single squint, so there, Luke Hansell."

"Well, all ready!" The minister whirled around, the little strips neatly placed, and all presenting the same appearance, between his two hands. "Matilda, you're the oldest; you may draw first."

"O dear! I don't know which one," said Matilda, putting out her brown hand, then drawing it back with a jerk.

"Of course not," said Matthew, bursting into a laugh; "if you did that would be peekin'."

"Well, you must hurry, and give your sisters a chance," said the minister.

"I don't want to; I want to go myself," said Matilda, hanging back.

"Then you don't want to draw," said the young man, severely. "Very well, you give up your chance. Elvira, it's your turn."

"Oh, I will, I will," cried Matilda, terribly alarmed, and, making a lunge, she twitched out the middle piece, so very tiny it was scarcely worth being there at all.

"Hoh, hoh!" snickered Mark. And Luke gave a little crow. Badly as he should miss Elvira, he wouldn't for the world want her to lose the chance of going.

"Now, Elvira."

"Oh, I'm goin'," she said, confidently, laying hold of the outside piece.

Luke trembled; that couldn't be the one. Out it came,—there was a second's lull,—and a strip so long it had to be doubled up in the middle was flying from her hand.

"I told you I was goin'," she said.