It was plain that it would not do to trust Prudy with secrets.  Her brain could not hold them, any more than a sieve can hold water.  So Mrs. Parlin took pity upon Susy, and allowed her and her cousin Florence Eastman to lock themselves into her chamber at certain hours, and work at their presents without interruption.

While the little girls sat together busily employed with book-marks and pin-cushions, the time flew very swiftly, and they were as happy as bees in a honeysuckle.

Mrs. Parlin said she believed nothing less than Christmas presents would ever make Susy willing to use a needle and thread; for she disliked sewing, and declared she wished the man who made the needles had to swallow them all.

The family were to celebrate Christmas evening; for Mr. Parlin was away, and might not reach home in season for Christmas eve.

For a wonder they were not to have a Tree, but a Santa Claus, “just for a change.”

“Not a truly Santa Claus, that comes puffin’ down the chimney,” explained Prudy, who knew very well it would be only cousin Percy under a mask and white wig.

CHAPTER II.

Before Daylight.

On Christmas morning, at three o’clock, there was a great bustle and pattering of little feet, and buzzing of little voices trying to speak in whispers.  Susy and Prudy were awake and astir.

“Where do you s’pose the stockings are?” buzzed Prudy, in a very loud whisper.

“Right by the bed-post, Prudy Parlin; and if you don’t take care we’ll wake everybody up.—­’Sh!  ’Sh!”

“Mine’s pinned on,” said Prudy; “and I’ve pricked my fingers.  O deary me!”

“Well, of course you’ve waked ’em all now,” exclaimed Susy, indignantly:  “I might have pricked my fingers to pieces, but I wouldn’t have said a word.”

Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, who were in the next room, were wide awake by this time; but they said nothing, only listened to the whispers of the children, which grew fainter, being smothered and kept down by mouthfuls of candy, lozenges, and peanuts.

The little girls longed for daybreak.  The sun, however, seemed to be in no haste, and it was a long while before there was a peep of light.  Susy and Prudy waited, wondering whether the sun would really forget to show his face; but all the while they waited they were eating candy; so it was neither dull nor lonely.  As for closing their eyes again, they would have scorned the idea.  It would be a pity indeed to fall asleep, and lose the pleasure of saying “Merry Christmas” to everybody.  Norah, the Irish servant, had said she should be up very early to attend High Mass:  they must certainly waylay her on the stairs.  How astonished she would be, when she supposed they were both soundly asleep!

“Let me do it myself,” said Susy:  “you stay here, Prudy, for you’ll be sure to make a noise.”