"Well, then it's sure to be satisfactory. Then I will bid you adieu,
trusting to meet you again at dinner."

"All right," said Marjorie, who had neatly; blindstitched the little
ripped place, and was now making the casing for the ribbons.

By dinner time the bag was nearly done, and she went to the table with a
light heart, knowing that she could finish her mother's present that
evening.

"Who is the dinner for this year?" asked Mr. Maynard, as the family sat
round their own dinner table.

"Oh, the Simpsons," said Marjorie, in a tone of decision. "You know Mr.
Simpson is still in the hospital, and they're awfully poor."

It was the Maynards' habit to send, every Christmas, a generous dinner to
some poor family in the town, and this year the children had decided on
the Simpsons. In addition to the dinner, they always made up a box of
toys, clothing, and gifts of all sorts. These were not always entirely
new, but were none the less welcome for that.

"A large family, isn't it?" said Mr. Maynard.

"Loads of 'em," said King. "All ages and assorted sizes."

"Well, I'll give shoes and mittens all round, for my share. Mother, you
must look out for the dinner and any necessities that they need.
Children, you can make toys and candies for them! can't you?"