FATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME
It was afternoon on a cold December day. Eva, all alone in the schoolroom, sat down on the hearthrug and looked thoughtfully into the fire. She was, however, not quite alone, for her tiny Yorkshire terrier sprang on her lap, and after turning round and round, pawing at her frock as though to make a comfortable hollow, settled cosily down.
" Dot," she said, smoothing the hair back from its eyes, " I'm very miserable. To-morrow is Christmas Eve, and every one is happy except me, I'm in trouble again. Somehow, I'm always in trouble —I've spoilt my velvet frock washing your feet— and you didn't want them washed, did you ?" The Honourable Dot—to give it its full title—looked desirous of forgetting the incident, then licked her hand as a reply seemed expected.
"Perhaps if I had some brothers and sisters they'd get into mischief sometimes, and it wouldn't always be me." Dot paid no heed to her grammar, was bored, and sighed heavily.