"I saw three ships go sailing by On New Year's Day in the morning."

Then Mr. Blake and Lydia recited "The Night Before Christmas," and were loudly applauded by Friend Morris and Mrs. Blake.

Now the room began to grow dark. Miss Puss settled herself for a nap in front of the fire, and Mr. Blake took Lydia on his lap. He was glad to hold a little girl in his arms again, for once he had had a little daughter of his own and had lost her.

"Did you have a nice Christmas, Lydia?" he asked. "What did Santa Claus bring you?"

"He brought me a doll," answered Lydia, settling down on his lap with a sigh of content, "and she has a ring and a locket and so I named her Lucy Locket. But that's not my real present. I must wait for that; and Santa Claus will try to bring it to me by-and-by. He promised."

"A real present?" said Mr. Blake. "And what kind of a present is that?"

"It's a father and a mother," whispered Lydia in his ear, "a real father and mother of my own. Do you think he'll bring it to me?"

"I do," said Mr. Blake, "I do, indeed. I'm almost sure he will."

He looked straight at Lydia as he spoke, and something in his blue eyes made her say, "You look just like Santa Claus-the way he did last night."

"Do I?" said Mr. Blake with a laugh. "Well, I don't know a better person to look like than Santa Claus."

Lydia put up her hand and patted his face.

"I'm going to give you something," said she. "I was saving it for Mary Ellen. It's mine, I didn't eat it myself, but I want to give it to you.

It's one of those good little cakes." And she drew it from her crummy pocket and put it in Mr. Blake's hand.

"Thank you, Lydia," said he, "thank you. But I wouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Blake could make up a little box for you to take home to Mary Ellen. Mother!" he called, "Mother!"

Mrs. Blake came into the room, and then, instead of saying anything about little cakes for Mary Ellen, "You tell her, Mother," said Mr.

Blake. "You tell her."

"Oh, Friend Morris," said Mrs. Blake, "you tell Lydia, won't you?"

So Friend Morris came forward, and she was smiling as she had smiled all afternoon.

"Friend Lydia," said she, "last night thee asked a present of Santa Claus, and to-day the present is given thee. Here are a good father and a good mother who will love thee well, and in turn they will have the love of a good little daughter. Does thee not understand what I am saying to thee, Friend Lydia?"

For Lydia was staring at Friend Morris with wide-open eyes. She could scarcely believe her ears. Friend Morris was still smiling, but tears were in her eyes. Then Lydia threw her arms about Mr. Blake's neck. "A real father," said Lydia. She turned to Mrs. Blake and held her as if she would never let her go. "And my own mother," said Lydia, "my own mother."

And there they were just so when Alexander's knock came at the door.

"This is the nicest Christmas we've ever had, isn't it, Lydia?" said Mr.

Blake, his voice a trifle husky. Lydia smiled up into his face and softly patted the big hand laid upon her shoulder.

"And you'll come back day after to-morrow, Lydia, to stay," said Mrs.

Blake, her arm still round the little girl, "and never go away again."

Lydia nodded happily. She wasn't able to talk about it yet. It seemed too good to be true. But she gave every one a parting hug all round.

Then she whispered something in Mr. Blake's ear.

"Please don't forget the little cakes for Mary Ellen," said little Friend Lydia.

CHAPTER III-The New Home

The next two days were the most exciting days Lydia had ever known.

First of all she told the good news over and over to Miss Martin, and Mary Ellen, and Nurse Norrie, and Sammy, and all the rest of them. Miss Martin wasn't a bit surprised. She almost acted as if she had known it all along.

"The saints bless us! It's no trouble you'll be making any one, the way you keep yourself clean," was all Nurse Norrie said.

But Mary Ellen and Polly and Sammy were as excited and interested as Lydia could wish. Their tongues flew and their heads wagged up and down, and if Lydia couldn't answer all the questions they asked her, they answered them themselves.

"Do you think you will have ice cream every day for dinner, Lydia?"

asked Polly.

Lydia didn't know what to think, but Mary Ellen answered for her.

"Of course," said Mary Ellen emphatically, "and perhaps pie, too. And always griddle cakes for breakfast."

"Oh, I wish some one would take me," said Polly longingly. "If I was prettier maybe they would." And Polly sighed as she wistfully felt of her little snub nose.

"Pooh!" said Sammy with a defiant air, "I don't care! I'm going to live with a cowboy out West and ride three horses at once, I am. Maybe I'll shoot Indians, too. I don't care!"

But they all looked at Lydia as if they thought her a fortunate little girl, and indeed Lydia herself thought so, too.

"Perhaps you will come and see me sometimes," said she, giving what comfort she could, "and we will have more of those good little cakes."

This happy suggestion made them all feel better. And when Mrs. Blake came to take Lydia away, there were only smiling faces and cheerful good-byes; for the last thing Mrs. Blake said was:

"Lydia is going to have a party some day very soon and she wants you all to come. Don't you, Lydia?"

Lydia, smiling, nodded. "I told you so," to her friends, and held tight to Mrs. Blake's hand as they went down the street. Every now and then she gave a skip, but only a very little one, for she carried Lucy Locket in her arms. Mrs. Blake was as happy as Lydia, and you had only to look at the smile on her lips and in her eyes to know it.

"Did I tell you there is a doll carriage at home for Lucy Locket?" said she, looking down at the little figure hopping at her side.

Lydia's eyes sparkled.

"I never had a carriage before," was her answer. Her heart seemed full to overflowing with happiness and love. Then Lydia stood still on the street.

"Please, do I call you Mother right away?" said she, looking up into the kind face that already wore a look like that of the mother Lydia did not remember.

"Oh, yes, indeed, Lydia," answered Mrs. Blake, "this very minute if you like."

"And Father, too?"

"And Father, too, as soon as he comes home to-night."

"Do you hear, Lucy Locket?" whispered Lydia. "My Mother and Father, my Mother and Father, my Father and Mother, my Father and Mother."