"Right by the bed-post, Prudy Parlin; and if you don't take care we'll
wake everybody up.--'Sh! 'Sh!"

"Mine's pinned on," said Prudy; "and I've pricked my fingers. O deary
me!"

"Well, of course you've waked 'em all now," exclaimed Susy,
indignantly: "I might have pricked my fingers to pieces, but I wouldn't
have said a word."

Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, who were in the next room, were wide awake by this
time; but they said nothing, only listened to the whispers of the
children, which grew fainter, being smothered and kept down by mouthfuls
of candy, lozenges, and peanuts.

The little girls longed for daybreak. The sun, however, seemed to be in
no haste, and it was a long while before there was a peep of light. Susy
and Prudy waited, wondering whether the sun would really forget to show
his face; but all the while they waited they were eating candy; so it
was neither dull nor lonely. As for closing their eyes again, they would
have scorned the idea. It would be a pity indeed to fall asleep, and
lose the pleasure of saying "Merry Christmas" to everybody. Norah, the
Irish servant, had said she should be up very early to attend High Mass:
they must certainly waylay her on the stairs. How astonished she would
be, when she supposed they were both soundly asleep!

"Let me do it myself," said Susy: "you stay here, Prudy, for you'll be
sure to make a noise."

"I'll go on my tippy toes," pleaded Prudy, her mouth half filled with