"I should like one large and splendid one, and one dear little one, to
remember some very nice person by," said Effie, who was a fanciful little
body, full of odd whims and notions, which her friends loved to gratify,
regardless of time, trouble, or money; for she was the last of three
little girls, and very dear to all the family.

"Well, my darling, I will see what I can do to please you, and not say a
word until all is ready. If I could only get a new idea to start with!"
And mamma went on tying up her pretty bundles with a thoughtful face,
while Effie strolled to the window to watch the rain that kept her
in-doors and made her dismal.

"Seems to me poor children have better times than rich ones. I can't go
out, and there is a girl about my age splashing along, without any maid to
fuss about rubbers and cloaks and umbrellas and colds. I wish I was a
beggar-girl."

"Would you like to be hungry, cold, and ragged, to beg all day, and sleep
on an ash-heap at night?" asked mamma, wondering what would come next.

"Cinderella did, and had a nice time in the end. This girl out here has a
basket of scraps on her arm, and a big old shawl all round her, and
doesn't seem to care a bit, though the water runs out of the toes of her
boots. She goes paddling along, laughing at the rain, and eating a cold
potato as if it tasted nicer than the chicken and ice-cream I had for
dinner. Yes, I do think poor children are happier than rich ones."

"So do I, sometimes. At the Orphan Asylum today I saw two dozen merry
little souls who have no parents, no home, and no hope of Christmas beyond