The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe (Musaicum Christmas Specials). Amanda M. Douglas

Christmas!" sang out Joe with a shout that might have been heard a mile. "Hal and Kit"—

      "Can't you let a body sleep in peace?" asked Kit in an injured tone, the sound coming from vasty deeps of bedclothes.

      Joe declared they always had to fish him out of bed, and that buckwheat cakes was the best bait that could be used.

      "Why, it's Christmas. Hurrah! We're going to have a jolly time. What do you suppose is in your stocking?"

      That roused Kit. He came out of bed on his head, and commenced putting his foot through his jacket sleeve.

      "I can't find my stockings! Who's got 'em?"

      "The fellow who gets up first always takes the best clothes," said Joe solemnly.

      With that he made a dive into his. It was the funniest thing in the world to see Joe dress. His clothes always seemed joined together in some curious fashion; for he flung his arms and legs into them at one bound.

      "Oh, dear! Don't look in my stocking, Joe. You might wait. I know you've hidden away my shoe on purpose."

      With this Kit sat in the middle of the floor like a heap of rains, and began to cry.

      Hal came to the rescue, and helped his little brother dress. But Joe was down long before them. He gave a whoop at the door.

      "Merry Christmas!" exclaimed Florence with a laugh, glad to think she had distanced him.

      "Merry Christmas! The top o' the mornin' to you, Granny! Long life and plenty of 'praties and pint.' Santa Claus has been here. My eyes!"

      Hal and Kit came tumbling along; but the younger stood at the door in amaze, his mouth wide open.

      "Hush for your life!"

      But Kit had to make a tour regardless of his own stocking, while Joe brandished the tongs above his head as if to enforce silence.

      Hal began to kindle the fire. Charlie crept out in her nightgown, with an old shawl about her, and stood transfixed with astonishment.

      "Oh, my! Isn't that jolly? Doesn't Granny know a bit?"

      "Not a word."

      "Mrs. McFinnegan," said Joe through the chink of the door, "I have to announce that the highly esteemed and venerable Mr. Santa Claus, a great traveller and a remarkably generous man, has made a call upon you during the night. As he feared to disturb your slumbers, he left a ball of cord, a paper of pins, and a good warm night-cap."

      Florence was laughing so that she could hardly use buttons or hooks. Dot gave a neglected whine from the cradle.

      "Is Granny ready?" Hal asked as she came out.

      "She's just putting on her cap."

      Hal went in for a Christmas kiss. Granny held him to her heart in a fond embrace, and wished the best of every thing over him.

      "Merry Christmas to you all!" she said as Hal escorted her out to the middle of the room.

      Joe went over on his head, and then perched himself on the back of a chair. The rest all looked at Granny.

      "Is this really for me?" she asked in surprise, though the great placard stared her in the face.

      The children set up a shout. Kit and Charlie paused, open-mouthed, in the act of demolishing something.

      "Why, I never"—

      "Tumble it out," said Joe.

      "This great shoe full"—

      Florence handed the first package to Granny. She opened it in amaze, as if she really could not decide whether it belonged to her or not.

      There was a paper pinned on it, "A Merry Christmas from Mrs. Kinsey."

      A nice dark calico dress-pattern, at which Granny was so overcome that she dropped into the nearest chair.

      Next a pair of gloves from Joe; a pretty, warm hood from Mrs. Howard, the clergyman's wife; a bowl of elegant cranberry sauce from another neighbor; a crocheted collar from Florence, and then with a big tug—

      "Oh!" exclaimed Granny, "is it a comfortable, or what?"

      A good thick plaid shawl. Just bright enough to be handsome and not too gay, and as soft as the back of a lamb.

      "Where did it come from?"

      Granny's voice trembled in her excitement.

      "From all of us," said Florence. "I mean, Joe and Hal and me. We've been saving our money this ever so long, and Mrs. Kinsey bought it for us. O Granny!"—

      But Granny had her arms around them, and was crying over heads golden and brown and black; and Hal, little chicken-heart, was sobbing and smiling together. Joe picked a big tear or two out of his eye, and began with some nonsense.

      "And to keep it a secret all this time! and to make this great shoe! There never was such a Christmas before. Oh, children, I'm happier than a queen!"

      "What makes you cry then, Granny?" asked Charlie. "But oh! wasn't it funny? And if it only had runners it would make a sleigh. Look at the red toe."

      They kissed dozens of times, and inspected each other's gifts. Florence had made each of the boys two dainty little neckties, having begged the silk from Miss Brown. Charlie and Kit had a pair of new mittens, Joe and Hal a new shirt with a real plaited bosom, and a host of small articles devised by love, with a scarce purse. But I doubt if there was a happier household in richer homes.

      It was a long while before they had tried every thing,

      tasted of all their "goodies," and expressed sufficient delight and surprise. Dot was taken up and dressed, and Kit found that she fitted into the shoe exact. Her tiny stocking was not empty. They all laughed and talked; and it was nine o'clock before their simple breakfast was ready.

      Joe had to take a turn out to see some of the boys; Florence made the beds, and put the room in order; and Hal kept a roaring fire to warm it up, so that they might have a parlor. Kit and Charlie were deeply interested in the shoe; and Granny had to break out every now and then in surprise and thankfulness.

      "A shawl and hood and gloves and a dress! Why, I never had so many things at once, I believe; and how hard you must all have worked! I don't see how you could save so much money!"

      "It's better than living with Mrs. Van Wyck," returned Florence with pardonable pride. "Embroidering is real pretty work, and it pays well. Mrs. Howard has asked me to do some for a friend of hers."

      "You're a wonder, Florence, to be sure. I can't see how you do 'em all so nice. But my fingers are old and clumsy."

      "They know how to make pies and doughnuts," said Kit, as if that was the main thing, after all.

      They went to work at the dinner. It was to be a grand feast. Joe kept the fire brisk; while Hal waited upon Granny, and remembered the ingredients that went to make "tip-top" dressing.

      "It is a pity you were not a Frenchman," said Florence. "You would make such a handy cook."

      Hal laughed, his cheeks as red as roses.

      "I couldn't keep house without him," appended Granny.

      There was a savory smell of roasting goose, the flavor of thyme and onions, which the children loved dearly. Charlie and Kit went out to have a good run, and came back hungry as bears, they declared. Joe went off to see some of the boys, and compare gifts. Though more than one new sled or nice warm overcoat gave his heart a little twinge, he was too gay and happy to feel sad very long; and, when he had a royal ride down hill on the bright sleds that flashed along like reindeers, he returned very well content.

      Florence sighed a little as she arranged the table. Three kinds of dishes, and some of them showing their age considerably. If they were all white it wouldn't be so bad. She did so love beauty!

      But