Unfortunate Charlie!  When he went home at a late hour Aunt Stanshy was disposed to rebuke him for his tardiness.  This was too much for Charlie.  He broke out into a whimper:  “I think I have a sad life, only scoldings at home and scoldings and arithmetic at school.”

“O, no!” said Aunt Stanshy, soothingly, guessing that the little fellow had had some trouble that day, and had been sufficiently punished for any fault; “O, no! not so bad as that!  Haven’t you a pleasant home?”

“Yes—­you—­you are kind, I know, real kind.”

“Well, don’t think any thing more about it.  Here is a big piece of mince pie.”

He had not eaten more than one half of his lunch when he felt very much comforted, and the outside world brightened very perceptibly.  To comfort him still further Aunt Stanshy allowed him to go after several boys and bring them to the barn, and it was in connection with this gathering that a new and important enterprise was suggested by one of the boys.

“It’s something that will pay,” said Sid.

Every body wanted to believe it and was willing to help it along.  Soon Charlie came running from the barn into the kitchen.

“Aunt Stanshy, will you please lend me your scales?”

“My what?”

“Your scales for weighing, please.”

“What on earth is it now?” exclaimed Aunt Stanshy.  It was a—­so the placard on the barn door stated—­it was A FAIR!

Charlie did not have much to say about it, but through the remainder of the day often hummed, or smiled and chuckled complacently.  When Aunt Stanshy had lighted the kerosene lamp that had a big lion’s claw for a base and boasted a yellow shade covered with green shepherdesses and blue sheep, then Charlie sat down at the center-table and for an hour was exceedingly busy.  About eight he held up an object to Aunt Stanshy.

“What is that, Aunt Stanshy?” he asked.

“A rag-man,” she replied, promptly.

The artisan’s face dropped and a pout came out.  A smile though quickly smoothed down the pout, and he exclaimed, in triumph, “Santa Claus!  He’s a friend of our club!  We thought we would be in season for Christmas, and people could buy their presents of us, and—­and—­will you buy?”

“I will—­buy—­that.”

“You will?  I’ll give you a kiss for that,” and Aunt Stanshy’s young lover came up to her and in his delight gave her a kiss.  Of a tuft of cotton Charlie had made a head.  Another tuft furnished a body; two more supplied arms to work with, and two more supplied legs to stand on.  Charlie put a three-cornered hat on Santa’s head and tied together the parts of his body with a girdle of pink worsted.  A card on Santa announced the fact that he could be bought for TWO CENTS.

Charlie trembled when Aunt Stanshy’s eyes were directed toward the price lest she might not think it worth the money.

“What’s that?”

“Two cents,” replied Charlie, in fear.