"Over there," replied Will, pointing to the slide. The old fellow squinted his eyes and looked across the river. "Ye-e-s," he drawled, "thar 's a slide, right sartin." "What upon airth are ye doin' thar?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling under their bushy brows. "We are watching for our otter," said Will. "Our otter," muttered the old fellow, our otter! He, he, he, he! Mebbe it is your otter; but you He paddled over and examined the slide for a few 'll never set them 'ere eyes onto your otter ag'in." minutes, but he did not say anything; and it was not long before he had pulled away out of sight down the river. We kept up our watch every day, feeling sure that if we could only have another shot at the otter he would be ours. But not another glimpse of him-not even a trace-did we get. "WE SHOT ON EACH SIDE OF HIM." One morning, the old trapper came along again. This time he had five minks. He stopped his skiff in the middle of the stream, and looked at us so queerly that we could not keep from smiling. "Why not?" said I, rather taken aback. "Kase I kotch that animal the very next night arter ye showed me the slide. He, he, he!" Will and I looked at felt badly put out. to talk with the old each other. We "That pelt war wo'th six dollars," he muttered, "an' I was boun' to hev it, ye see." We took down our blind of cedarboughs, drew up our little anchor, and paddled away, feeling too disappointed to talk much. But, after all, the old trapper no doubt needed the otter's skin much more than we did, and so it all turned out right. One thing was sure: we had made good progress with our Greek and Latin lessons, meanwhile. CHRISTMAS AT NUMBER ONE, CRAWLIN PLACE. M BY SARGENT FLINT. OST certainly, Number One, Crawlin Place, was a dingy abode at any time, but as Carol came in sight of it, one bright afternoon a few days before Christmas, with his mind full of much pleasanter places, he gave a little sigh of disapproval, and muttered, not gloomily, but honestly, as if he had been called upon suddenly to compare it candidly with brighter places he had seen: "It looks meaner than ever! " A ray from the sun as he looked up at No. 1, seemed to contradict him, for it fell brightly upon a window in the fourth story and lighted it up wonderfully; or was it the bright, deep-set eyes of old Aunt Kizzy, as she looked down and nodded cheerfully? However that may be, little Carol forgot that Crawlin Place was dingy as he darted up the old stairs. The faded face of Aunt Kizzy, her bright eyes and worn wig, were a part of his home; and when Christmas is near, home is dearer than any other place in the world, if it is dingy. Besides, Carol-but let him tell his own secrets. "Darn up the old stocking I saw dangling on the line, Aunt Kizzy," he cried, as he came breathlessly up to the window where the old lady sat. "I'll make it strong enough to hold up two cents' worth of snuff," she said, cheerily. "I feel sure this will be a lucky Christmas," said Carol. "I saw three stars shoot last night-a star apiece for us, Aunt Kizzy. Now quick,-before mother comes,-count that, please!" know," dropping his voice to a mysterious whisper, 66 I sang for it!" "Where, child?" "In the street." "Like a beggar?" "No, not quite. I did n't ask for money; they gave it to me." "What did you sing, you scamp, you?" said Aunt Kizzy, forgetting her point in her curiosity. "I sang every song I knew-even the one you sang to me the other night." "Where? Anywhere about here?" "No; away up-town where the big folks live." "Don't you do it again." "I have promised Santa Claus two cents' worth of snuff for an old lady who hangs up black stockings." "Get anything you feel sure she 'll like," he whispered in her ear, and darted away. "Seventy cents! Well, well, well! may be you're not ashamed of your want o' faith, old Kizzy Hopkins! No good comes o' twitting, so I'll only say, faith's a good thing always. Now step along, and see what you can buy. Seventy cents! And ten away down in your pocket for him, that he could n't see. No, you can't get much for ten cents, but start out and do your best. Straighten your wig, old Kizzy; count up your change and don't go out with envious feelings in your heart because other old women carry heavier purses! Seventy cents and ten is eighty; eighty cents aint to be sneezed at. Did n't you expect to have to start out with only ten? You know you did! Then why not look a little cheerful?" This remark was evidently addressed to the faded, patient face that looked out at her from the small looking-glass. But Carol's mother heard. "Don't dare find fault with that woman in the glass!" said she, coming in and smoothing the rusty black ribbon on the worn-out bonnet. "She's orful ungrateful, Car'line. Instead of bein' thankful for a bonnet to cover her old wig, Aunt Kizzy's back became very stiff and she she 's wishing for a veil to hide her old bonhanded him back the money. "It's all right," he said, impatiently, waving away her extended hand. "But if you must net." "The more people have, the more they want, Aunt Kizzy. But where are you going?" "After Christmas presents," said Aunt Kizzy, proudly. “Good-bye!” "There is a dear, strong heart under that old shawl," said Caroline, as Aunt Kizzy turned the dismal corner. "Only ten cents for both of 'em," muttered the old woman, as she left the narrow street. "That boy is off trying to get something for me. Aint you ashamed of yourself, Kizzy H?" she continued, falling into her favorite mode of addressing herself, which she called giving a dose to her pride. "Think of the times you might have earned a little, if you had n't been so proud!" believe the grand brass images and flumjacks have pushed everything good out of this place." And she went up the high steps. As her hand touched the bell, a light step was heard behind her, and a pleasant voice said: "Whom did you wish to see?" "I came," Aunt Kizzy's voice was a little unsteady," I— I came to ask if any of the ladies here would-would like to hear a little old-fashioned singing." "I certainly should," said the young lady, pleasantly; "and I'm sure grandmamma would." "Open your eyes and take in all the style, old "I would do anything now," she forced her pride Kiz, to tell Car'line," said the old woman to herto say. "No doubt you would," she returned, severely. "Come in at the 'leventh hour and take what you could find." "I would do anything in the world that I could that was honest," said her pride, humbled now to the very dust of self-reproach. "Would you sing for money? Aunt Kizzy said this abruptly, almost triumphantly, as if she had proved her pride now, and found it nothing but a vain boaster. A little red spot was burning in each faded cheek. She had left Crawlin Place far behind her. The houses she now saw were beginning to wear a very well-to-do look. On she walked until the streets grew wide and the houses very fine. What a contrast to Crawlin Place! "If you get envious, back you 'll go, Kizzy H., without a chance for present-money!" This was probably addressed to another weak spot in poor Aunt Kizzy's make-up. She went on without an idea where to stop. A house with the curtains up attracted her attention. "Massy!" she exclaimed, as she looked in the window. "They must be made of gold and silver in there!" She walked up the steps and rang the bell. "If you please, miss," she began, as the door opened. "Back gate for beggars," said the servant, shortly. self, as they walked up the broad handsome stairs. But when she found herself actually standing before a sofa, where lay a proud-looking old lady, she forgot "Car'line," and almost her errand. "She is going to sing us some old-fashioned music," explained the young lady, as her grandmother stared at them both. Aunt Kizzy closed her old hands nervously together, but though she pressed them very hard, no song came to her mind. What would they think of her! Her breath came in little gasps, and the red spots brightened in her cheeks. "Sit down and rest yourself a little while," said the young lady, kindly. "I brought you up too many stairs for you to sing right away." "There was n't so many stairs, miss, as there 's been years since I sung afore folks," said Aunt Kizzy, then adding mentally, "Don't act like a fool if you've got common sense, Kizzy H. !" She stood respectfully before them, and in a voice, not by any means to be despised, sang a simple ballad of "ye olden time." "Can you sing another?" asked the young lady, as the last note died away. "I don't wish another yet," said her grandmother. "I want the same again." Aunt Kizzy's heart beat joyfully. She had forgotten money; there was happiness in the thought of being able to give pleasure. She sang until her old voice sounded weary, and they declared she should sing no more. The young lady gave her a With a choking feeling in her throat, Aunt dollar. Kizzy stood staring at the closed door. "You can't stare money enough out of a shut door to fill a stocking, unless a miracle takes place, Kizzy H," she said cheerfully, as she went down the grand steps. House after house was passed before another struck her fancy. "Don't look quite so grand as t' other," she said, as she looked in at a window. "There's a picter o' Christ blessing little children. It makes me feel orful old. Dear little creeters ! I don't "Too much," said Aunt Kizzy, firmly. "I sang ten songs, and two cents apiece is high enough to reckon 'em." "A dollar for a good concert is cheap enough, and I have not enjoyed one so much for many a day, madam.” "If you insist on it, I can't help it," said Aunt Kizzy, with shining eyes, as she thought of Carol's stocking. "I do not consider that I half pay for my pleasure," said the young lady's grandmother, as with old-school dignity she placed five dollars in Aunt Kizzy's hand. "I could n't sleep to-night if I took that!" she cried. "Don't make me think I'm dreaming now, and 'll wake up without a cent for Carol's stockin'." She held out the money to the young lady, who took it, saying: "You shall not be overpaid, but let me give you a muff; your hands will be cold going home. This is an old one, but it is warm, and here are some pieces of silk for a new lining.” "Tell me all about it!" cried Carol, on Christmas morning as he stood with a full stocking by the fire-place in the little sitting-room on the fourth story of Number One, Crawlin Place. "I wont." "Sit right there, Aunt Kizzy, till you tell me where you got so much money. A Christmas present ought to be bought with money that don't need washing!"" "Well," in a whisper, "if you must know, boy, I sang for it." "Sang for it!" Carol's surprise was as genuine as Aunt Kizzy's had been, but he recovered himself and said: "Like a beggar?" "No," said Aunt Kizzy, demurely. "I did n't ask for money; they gave it to me without." "Dear Aunt Kizzy, don't you call this a lucky Christmas?" said Carol, as he pulled on new boots, while Aunt Kizzy, with a new bonnet on, took snuff extravagantly, and his mother stood with her hands in the muff. "Nothin' to do with luck," said, Aunt Kizzy. "We worked for something and 't aint sense to expect when you work for something that you'll get n-othin'." With a merry jerk she pulled out a pair of warm gloves from the long black stocking. "Cast your bread upon the waters, old Kizzy H. Give Car'line an old muff, and get new gloves from Santa Claus!" "I shall not allow you to give me this muff," said Car❜line. "It is just what you have wanted for so long; and a new lining will make it just as good as ever." "Massy, Car'line! the silk for it is in my pocket. Plenty of it you see." As she unrolled it, she gasped : "Carol, hand me the campfire bottle!" for, carefully folded in the little bundle of pieces, lay the rejected five-dollar bill. "It must be a mistake," said Carol's mother. "Of course I shall take it back, Car'line." "If it makes you feel so sick, Aunt Kizzy H., I will take it, and you shall never see it again," said Carol, kindly. “It was n't a mistake, though, Carʼline.” "What makes you think so?" "Well, I tell you how it was; I did something for-for two ladies away up town, and they offered me that bill, and I would n't lay a finger to it, and that pretty creeter put it in the silk; but I'll take it back, I'll take it back!" "Come now, Aunt Kizzy," said Carol, laughing, "bet you can't tell what street it was." "Hey?" said the old woman with a blank expression on her pale face. Massy, if I know any more than a old woman led by a dog!" Carol's mother touched Aunt Kizzy's arm. "Tell me, Aunt, how you earned the money." "I did what Carol did." "What did he do?" "There's your stockin' just burstin' to see you, Car'line. Why don't you go 'tend to it?" "You care more for the stocking than for me, Aunt Kizzy, for I am in almost as sad a state." "Would you tell, Carol?" |