she was to Polly! I hated to hear Mamie talk about Santa Claus. Polly
used to talk just that way, and we did have such good times. I used to
get skates and things at Christmas, but now I get some handkerchiefs
or a lot of shirts! It makes me mad." Then Ned fell asleep, and so
the mother found him. She woke him gently and he went off to bed,
bewildered by more kind words.

Morning dawned and Ned hurried down to light the fire in the kitchen,
but he went no further than the sitting-room. There was a sled,--a
splendid one,--a pair of skates, and books! He put his hands in his
pockets to take a long stare, and felt something strange in one of
them. Why! There was a beautiful knife!

Mother came in and watched his face, but at sight of her the boy
fairly broke down. Laying his head on her shoulder, "It's like Polly
coming back," he said.

And so it was, and so it continued to be.


[Illustration: BOGGS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAD HIS PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN ON
THANKSGIVING DAY, AND EATEN A HEARTY DINNER AFTERWARD.]




THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON'S SHOW.

BY JENNIE A. OWEN.