an'--an'--an'--Oh, my gosh!" finished Mike tragically, "Muggs is a girl.
Her--her name's C-c-c-c-clara!"

The Doctor jumped. So did Muggs. The lachrymose explosion came and the
drum slipped down from the shoulder of Muggs with a clatter.

"Don't wanta go home!" came the heartbroken wail, "don't wanta go home.
Mom Murphy'll git me."

"I--I tol' her," explained Mike uncomfortably, "that she mustn't open
her mouth once--jus' act deaf an' dumb or you'd guess maybe an' send
her home an' Mom Murphy'd git her. An'--an'--she must take a drum like a
boy--"

Literal Muggs! Heaven alone knew by what other blood-thirsty threats
than Mom Murphy Mike had encompassed the stony silence and frenzied
drumming of the little sister who had never had a Christmas.

"But why," burst forth the despairing Doctor. "In heaven's
name--why--Muggs?"

"She makes such awful faces," said Mike apologetically. "Mom don't know
what makes her that way." And then as Muggs was at the climax of one of
the spasms that had won her her name, the Doctor suddenly lifted her in
gentle arms and tossed her to the ceiling.

"Poor, poor little kiddy!" he said huskily. "What a price she's paid for
her Christmas."

But Muggs had forgotten the price. Though it had been a hard day the