THE LITTLE PICTURE GIRL
was Christmas Eve, and a little girl lay in her little bed, wondering what Santa Claus was going to put in her stocking this year. It was hung up where he would be sure to see it, and upon the same chair before the fireplace she had thoughtfully placed her clothes-brush in case he might like to brush off the soot from his coat.
The grate held but a few smouldering embers, for it was late, very late—at least ten o'clock—and Minna ought to have been asleep hours ago. Perhaps she would have been, only there were so many things to wonder about to-night, and one cannot be sure of wondering about them when one is fast asleep.
So after wondering about Santa Claus, she turned to the stars, which she could see through the uncur-