And what were her secrets? She was one of the children allowed to make Christmas-gifts to their friends.

But it was hard for Mabel to keep her secrets. When her papa came home at night, she always climbed upon his knee to tell him every thing that had happened in her little world during the day; and her papa always listened to her prattle with a great deal of interest.

Now, that there was something she must not tell, Mabel could think of nothing else. She climbed upon his knee, and sat so silent, that her papa said, "Well, puss, have you nothing to tell papa to-night?"

"Oh, I mustn't tell you my secrets, papa," said wise little Mabel: "I've lots of 'em, and one is for you; and, if I tell, you will know all about it."

Now that the ice was broken, Mabel chatted on, innocently thinking that her secrets were safe in her wise little head. "Mamma knows," she continued; "but you mustn't know; and we are going to have a Christmas-tree to put 'em on, and everybody will be so sprised."

Sure enough, when Christmas Eve came, every one was surprised, but, most of all, little Mabel; for a beautiful doll and many other pretty things hung upon the tree for her. "Why, mamma," she exclaimed, "somebody else must have had secrets too!"