a letter for him, with Susie Peters’s help, asking in writing what she had asked before by word of mouth, that he be forgiven, and requesting that he might not find his stocking empty on Christmas morning. As to what should be in it, she had left that to Santa’s generosity, because Will’m had never said what he wanted.

“And now,” she added reproachfully, “I ‘ve told you that we ought n’t to ask for more than one thing apiece, ‘cause this is the frst time he ‘s ever been to this house, and it does n’t seem polite to ask for so much from a stranger.”

Will’m defended himself, his chin tilted at an angle that should have been a warning to any who could read such danger-signals.

“I only asked for one thing for me and one for you.”

“Yes, but, don’t you see, I had already asked for something for each of us, so that makes two things apiece,” was the almost tearful answer.

“Well, I are n’t to blame,” persisted Will’m, “for you did n’t tell me what you ’d done.”

“But you ought to have waited and asked me before you sent it,” insisted Libby.

“I ought n’t!”

“You ought, I say!” This with a stamp of her foot for emphasis.

“I ought n’t, Miss Smarty!” This time a little tongue thrust itself out at her from Will’m’s mouth, and his face was screwed into the ugliest twist he could make.

Again he had the shock of a great surprise, when Libby did not answer with a worse face. Instead, she lifted her head a little, and said, in a voice almost honey-sweet, but so loud that it seemed intended for other ears than Willy “Very well, have your own way, brother, but Santa Claus knows that I did n’t want to be greedy and ask for two things!”

William answered in what was fairly a shout: “An’ he knows that I did n’t, neether!”

The shout was followed by a whisper, “Say, Libby, do you s’pose he heard that?”

Libby’s answer was a convincing nod.