22 THE ACORN. never knew, but I do know that he made my life unhappy. This child has brought back to me the love that I once cherished. She is a picture of her mother both in grace and beauty. If I were only her father, and her mother were only mine! No, it can't be. But who has more right to her child than I?" He was not aware of the child's entering the room. His eyes were still on those black and white letters before him. "Uncle, why do you look so sad?" With tears in his eyes he looked upon the jewel he prized so highly. His look showed trouble and distress, but partly hiding his emotion, he said: "Nothing, child, I was just thinking of the one whom I loved." "It was her mother," said he, half in a whisper, "It was her mother." Elaine, coming closer insisted on knowing the cause of such sorrow. Mr. Cole then told the sad story and again in a whisper he said, "You are her child and a perfect picture of holiness." "I am her child, said Elaine, looking sorrowfully into his eyes. To all his questions she made no reply. "Oh," he said, "I ought not to have told you, my dear, but what could Uncle do?" "He can make me feel happier if he talks of what he will do," said Elaine. She now reasoned as though she were a child of fourteen instead of seven "Now, Uncle," she continued, "not Uncle any more, but papa. You be my papa and I'll be our child." "And," he added fervently, "My Christmas Jewel." Winnifred Marriott, '06. THE ACORN. 23 TIM'S CHRISTMAS. "Buy a paper ma'am?" asked an eager little urchin of about eleven summers; "only a penny." "No," answered the lady rather sharply. "Oh, please buy one, won't you?" he asked in such a pitiful voice, it seemed as though it touched her heart. "Well I guess I will take one, you seem so eager to sell them," she replied. "Thank you, thank you ma'am," said he. "Well, little boy, how is it you seem so eager to sell your papers tonight; why don't you wait till tomorrow?" asked the lady "Kind ma'am, I must not go home without a bun or something for Leah; for she hasn't had any thing to eat since morning, and I havn't sold a paper all day. I was afraid I would not sell one, but oh, you were so kind to take it." The lady turned to go; he looked up with such a pitiful smile she could not help dropping another penny into his hand. Oh, how Tim's heart beat with joy as he ran down the street holding to his papers with one hand and with the other grasping the pennies the lady had given him. "How happy Leah will be when she sees me tonight," thought he, "for I will take her two buns and an orange. My, I'm glad I met that kind lady; she seemed so nice. I'd like Leah to see her, Poor Leah. Mrs. Gray said she could never walk again, but I think if I could sell enough papers so she could have lots to eat, she'd get strong again. Wouldn't it be grand? But the poor little girl looked so bad this morning." (Just then he came to the Bakery Shop and ran in to buy the cakes. He disliked to see the pennies go, but received the buns with a cheerful "thank you"). As he started to go out of the door, some one touch-