table, Uncle Jack, for nobody could ever be frightened of you,
you dearest, dearest, dearest thing that ever was! Mama is going
to help us, but Papa and the boys are going to eat together down
stairs for fear of making the little Ruggleses shy; and after
we've had a merry time with the tree we can open my window and
all listen together to the music at the evening church-service,
if it comes before the children go. I have written a letter to
the organist, and asked him if I might have the two songs I like
best. Will you see if it is all right?"

"BIRDS NEST, Dec. 21st, 188-.
DEAR MR. WILKIE,--
I am the little sick girl who lives next door to the church, and,
as I seldom go out, the music on practice days and Sundays is one
of my greatest pleasures.

I want to know if you can let the boys sing 'Carol, brothers,
carol,' on Christmas night, and if the one who sings 'My ain
countree' so beautifully may please sing that too. I think it is
the loveliest song in the world, but it always makes me cry;
doesn't it you?

If it isn't too much trouble, I hope they can sing them both
quite early, as after ten o'clock I may be asleep.
--Yours respectfully,
CAROL BIRD.

P.S.--The reason I like 'Carol, brothers, carol,' is because the
choir-boys sang it eleven years ago, the morning I was born, and
put it into Mama's head to call me Carol. She didn't remember