“Oh, we’re in several different shades of dark-blue over at our house,” answered Charlotte.  “Mother has shut herself up with a raging headache, Molly has quarreled with her best chum and refuses to be comforted, and one of the twins has the earache.  To crown it ail, Melina, who is usually cheerful, is going around the kitchen looking as though she’d lost her last friend, and I actually haven’t had the courage yet to find out what’s the matter with her.  Fortunately for every one, Cousin Josie blew in, and when she saw how things were going she made me go out for an hour, and said she’d stay with the children.”

“It must be hard to manage so many,” said Ruth who longed to help but didn’t know how.  “I’m sure I think you’re awfully brave to be so cheerful all the time.”

“Oh, but I’m not; I’m the most doleful thing you ever knew at home sometimes.  And every little while I have to play baby and fuss it all out to some one.  You happen to be the victim this time, but if it hadn’t been you it would have been Mrs. Hamilton, or Betty.”  Charlotte’s voice quavered, and there was a long silence while she stared gloomily into the fire and Ruth searched her mind for something comforting to say.  At last she said hesitatingly, “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“I know you do,” answered Charlotte with a smile.  “But you can’t except just by understanding, and letting me tell my woes to you occasionally.  After I’ve really been in the dumps I’m the most courageous thing you ever saw, and feel that I can accomplish wonders.  I suppose the reason I feel blue just now is because Christmas is so near.”

“Christmas!  Why, don’t you just love Christmas?”

“Love it!  I should say not.  I usually hate it.”

Ruth’s eyes opened very wide as she stared at Charlotte.  That any sane girl should hate Christmas was incomprehensible.

“Christmas won’t seem the same to me this year,” she said soberly, “but I love it and I’m going to have as good a time as I can.  Why do you hate it, Charlotte?”

“Oh, for various reasons.  Mother always seems sicker at this season, and father looks anxious and more tired.  I always feel that he’s trying to squeeze out a little more money to give us a good time, and doesn’t see how he possibly can.  As for me, I’m so hopelessly in debt to other people in the way of presents that I shall never swim out.”  Charlotte tried to speak lightly, but it was a dismal failure.

“I never felt about it in just that way,—­I mean about being in debt to people.  I dare say I’ve missed giving sometimes when I should have given, if that’s the way of it.  I love to choose and make presents for the people I’m fond of, and that’s what Christmas means to me.”

“Well, that’s very lovely and quite the proper way to think of it, I know, but it wouldn’t seem quite so easy to you if you didn’t have any money to spend.”

“Why not make things?” asked Ruth innocently.