“Well, good-night and merry Christmas, Julia!” said the little cashgirl, gratefully.  “I don’t know how to thank you enough for being so good, and helping me so much,—­indeed I don’t!”

“Never mind trying,” answered Julia, brightly, but with an earnestness unusual to her.  “Isn’t this Christmas Eve, and didn’t the Infant Jesus come to help us, and teach us to do what we can for one another?  Just say a prayer for me at Mass to-morrow; that is all I ask.”

“You may be sure I will,” Katy responded, heartily.

“Good-night!  Merry Christmas to you all, and especially to Ellie!” added Julia, hurrying away.

Katy’s father was waiting for her at one of the entrances of the store.  After a slight demur, she allowed him to carry the package, while she trudged along at his side.  The stores were closed, the gay throng of shoppers had disappeared.  People were still abroad upon the great thoroughfares; but the side streets were deserted, except when, now and again, overtaxed workers like herself were to be met making their way home.  The lamps burned dim, save where, occasionally, an electric light flared up with a spectral glare.  The glitter of the world had departed.  It was past midnight; in the deep blue of the winter’s sky the stars glowed with a peaceful radiance.  Looking up at them, Katy began to think, in her own simple fashion, of the meaning of Christmas and of Christmas gifts; of Bethlehem, the Virgin Mother, and the Divine Child; of the Love that came into the world on that holy night of long ago, to kindle in all hearts a spirit of kindliness and helpfulness toward one another, making it more blessed to give than to receive.  The little girl realized the happiness of making others happy, when she handed to Ellie the bulky package over which she had kept watch all the way to the house.

The usually pale face of the young invalid flushed with excitement, while, with trembling fingers, she unfastened the wrappings and opened the box.

“O Katy!” she exclaimed, as she beheld the hard-won present,—­“O Katy!” It was all she could say, but the tone and the look which accompanied it were quite enough.

At first neither of the children could think of anything besides the doll; but after a while Ellie made another discovery.  As she trifled with the box, she cried: 

“Why, there’s something else here!”

The next moment she drew out a doll precisely like the first, except that its shoes had red buckles; at the sight of which Katy immediately concluded that, for herself, she liked red buckles better.  Attached to it was a card on which was written:  “For an unselfish little sister.”

“It did not get there by mistake:  it’s for you, Katy,” said Ellie, ecstatically.

“Then the Rose-lady must have sent it,” declared Katy, feeling as if she were in a dream.

That her conjecture was correct was evident the next day; for about noon a carriage stopped at the door of the dilapidated house in ——­ street; and a visitor, who seemed to bring with her an additional share of Christmas sunshine, was shown up to the Connors’ tenement.  She was followed by a tall footman, who quietly deposited upon the table a generous basket of the season’s delicacies.