now--the little girl plainly choked back the tears of disappointment.

"Why, if it's a Christmas tree you want," said Dorian, "that ought to be
easy. There are plenty up on the nearby hills."

"Yes; but neither papa nor mama nor we can get them."

"But I can."

"Oh, will you? Tomorrow?"

"Yes; tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We'll have to have it then."

The children were dancing with glee as the mother came in and learned
what had been going on. "You mustn't bother the gentleman," she
admonished, but Dorian pleaded for the pleasure of doing something for
them. The mother explained that because of unforeseen difficulties the
children were doomed to disappointment this holiday season, and they
would have to be satisfied with what scanty preparation could be made.

"I think I can help," suggested the young man, patting the littlest
confiding fellow on the head. "We cannot go on until tomorrow, I
understand, and I should very much like to be useful."

The big pleading eyes of the children won the day. They moved into the
kitchen. All the corners were ransacked for colored paper and cloth, and
with scissors and flour paste, many fantastic decorations were made to
hang on the tree. Corn was popped and strung into long white chains. But
what was to be done for candles? Could Dorian make candles? He could do
most everything, couldn't he? He would try. Had they some parafine, used