forgive our debtors," did poor Mr. Frome's mind come back and throw itself fervently into his words.

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Mother," he said hastily, as he rose, "I am going in to see neighbor Grash. Tommy, just bring me my boots, will you?"

"And do ask how Mrs. Grash is, John," said Mrs. Frome, looking very much pleased. "I saw the doctor's chaise at the door yesterday, and I am afraid she is sick. I would have sent to inquire, but" and she looked a little shyly at her husband.

"Ahem!" said he, getting something out of his throat, "you are right, you are always right, Mary; it was wrong, it is all wrong; I begin to see it," and ejaculating such short sentences as he tugged at his boots, Mr. Frome grew red in the face, and, kissing his wife, went into the entry. He came back in a moment. "Tom," said he, can you act like a little gentleman? I want you to come with me and see Mr. Grash."

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"O bah!" said the boy.

"I'd go, Tobby," said Jack.

his cat is."

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"Ask hib how

Jack," said his mother, quietly, “Mr. Grash hasn't any rude little boys to call us names."

Tom hung back a minute more, and then, seeing his father waiting, he ran out and pulled his boots up over his feet, and his tippet down over his head, and so was ready, nodding back to the rest in the window, as he and his father went down the steps and on to the sidewalk. At that moment the door of their neighbor's house opened, and Mr. Grash stepped out into the street. Mr. Frome was flustered a moment. He had expected to ring the door-bell, and he had not collected his thoughts yet.

"Eh! ah!" said he; "O, Mr. Grash, a merry Christmas to you I wish you a merry Christmas!" and he pulled at his glove, and thrust his hand out with the glove flapping at the tip, for he could not get it off before Mr. Grash had held out his hand in its mitten, and had shaken it up and down a great many times.

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Yes, indeed, a merry Christmas, Mr. Frome at least I hope so. Doing pretty well. I say, do you think your wife?—You know the doctor said he'd come again - he hasn't come yet do you see him?" and Mr. Grash looked anxiously down the street.

"Why, what-O! ah! Tommy, run into the house at once, and tell your mother to come quick-just as quick as she can to Mr.

--

Grash's. Tell her Mrs. Grash has a little boy, Mr. Grash, I wish you joy, most heartily."

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Why, didn't you know it?" asked Mr. Grash, looking amazed.

"I ought to have known it, being your nearest neighbor, Grash, but really - I-I was coming to wish you a merry Christmas," said Mr. Frome, turning a little redder, "and I thought it would not be merry to me unless I wiped out old scores."

"Well, now," said Mr. Grash, "I'm glad to hear you say so, for last night, as I was watching and waiting, I turned it all over, and I made up my mind that the first thing I'd do this morning would be to go to you, and—and -take it all back. Mr. Frome," he went on, after a moment, "it was my wife's doing. She said to me last night-says she, If I die, Simon, you'll make it all up with Mr. Frome -won't you? You know we were the wrong ones.' As if she was wrong, Mr. Frome! Somehow, I can't feel this morning as I did yesterday—or day before yesterday, I mean. This sitting up all night confuses one so. I want to be at peace with everybody. I feel as if some one had been ringing bells or singing Bongs."

At this moment back came Tommy with his

mother, and by her was little Sally. Poor Jack stood behind the window, his ball of a handkerchief up at his face, now blowing his nose and now wiping his tears, because he couldn't go over and see Mr. Grash's baby, but must stay in the house for fear of catching more cold. Mrs. Frome shook hands warmly with Mr. Grash, and little Sally came boldly up and said,

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Mother

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Grash! says I can't see the baby, but here is something I'll lend her. I can't give it, you know, because it was a present to me this morning. You must do so; and so saying, Sally held up the Nuremberg India-rubber man, and shoved his head into his stomach, and then gravely watched Mr. Grash to see what he would do when the head popped up. Mr. Grash laughed louder than any one had laughed yet, and she was perfectly satisfied.

"There!" said she, triumphantly, "give that to her! give that to the baby. I mean, show it to her," for as Mr. Grash took it, Sally had a sudden fear she might never see it again. "I'll send it back by your mother," said he; "but it is a little boy-baby, my little girl."

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O, I thought it was a girl," said Sally, a ittle bit disappointed. "Well, never mind,"

she spoke up quite cheerfully; "I've got twc brothers, and they're both boys."

"Mr. Grash," said Tommy, "I'd like to clean off your walk. I like shoveling snow." "There's a little man!" said Mr. Grash, who was finding it quite hard to get back into his house again, what with his new friends and their offers of neighborliness. So the door shut behind Mr. Grash and his neighbor Mr. Frome, and his neighbor's wife; and the two children remained outside, Tommy shoveling snow, and Sally watching him, while Jacky, whose tears were dried, was now rubbing his thumb up the window-pane, and making what was music to him.

At the back of Mr. Frome's house was a high wall, shutting in the yard. A gate opened in it, but it was closed, and by it outside sat two cats. They were Mr. Frome's Cat and Mr. Grash's Cat.

"Perhaps, if we scratch a little harder, she might come," said Mr. Grash's Cat, looking wistfully at the gate.

"My claws are rather tender," said Mr. Frome's Cat; "I think I could mew better. I wish the wall were not so high."

"Don't speak of the high wall, my dear