together with delight.

"I guess so."

"I wish I could see him," he said, more soberly and thoughtfully.
And then, as if some new impression had crossed his mind, he
hastened down from the chair, and went gliding from the room.

Half an hour afterwards, as I came into the nursery, I saw my three
"olive branches," clustered together in a corner, holding grave
counsel on some subject of importance; at least to themselves. They
became silent at my presence; but soon began to talk aloud. I
listened to a few words, but perceived nothing of particular
concern; then turned my thoughts away.

"Who is Kriss Kringle, papa?" I heard my cherry-lipped boy asking of
Mr. Smith, soon after he came home in the evening.

The answer I did not hear. Enough that the enquirer did not appear
satisfied therewith.

At tea-time, the children were not in very good appetite, though in
fine spirits.

As soon as the evening meal was over, Mr. Smith went out to buy
presents for our little ones, while I took upon myself the task of
getting them off early to bed.

A Christmas tree had been obtained during the day, and it stood in
one of the parlors, on a table. Into this parlor the good genius was