Maida was early Christmas morning by a long, wild of the bell. Before she could collect her wits, she heard Rosie’s voice, “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Oh, Granny, won’t you please let me run upstairs and wake Maida? I’ve got something dreadfully important to tell her.”  
Maida heard Granny’s bewildered “All roight, child,” heard Rosie’s rush through the living-room and then she bounded out of bed, prickling all over with excitement.
 
“Maida,” Rosie called from the stairs, “wake up! I’ve something wonderful to tell you.”
 
But Maida had guessed it.
 
“I know,” she cried, as Rosie burst into the room. “Your mother’s come home.”
 
“My mother’s come home,” Rosie echoed.
 
The two little girls seized each other and around the room in a mad dance, Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, “Your mother’s come home!” and Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs, “My mother’s come home!” After a few moments of this, they sank on the bed.
 
“Tell me all about it,” Maida . “Begin at the very beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
 
“Well, then,” Rosie began, “I will. When I went to bed last night after leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon I was so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long while I got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn’t wake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had to wake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way and even let me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, because I never dress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw there were tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel something awful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother was dead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me and sat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he was going to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn’t! After awhile, he said, ‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother’s bedroom, Rosie.’ So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresa didn’t come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs and listened. I opened the door.”
 
Rosie stopped for breath.
 
“Go on,” Maida ; “oh, do hurry.”
 
“Well, there, lying on the bed was my mother. Maida, I felt so queer that I couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t walk—-just like in a dream. My mother said, ‘Come here, my precious little girl,’ but it sounded as if it came from way, way, way off. And Maida then I could move. I ran across the room and hugged her and kissed her until I couldn’t breathe. Then she said, ‘I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, little daughter,’ and she pulled something over towards me that lay, all wrapped up, in a shawl on the bed. What do you think it was?”
 
“I don’t know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!”
 
“Guess,” Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing.
 
“Rosie, if you don’t tell me this minute, I’ll pinch you.”
 
“It was a baby—a little baby brother.”
 
“A baby! Oh, Rosie!”
 
The two little girls hopped about the room in another mad dance.
 
“Maida, he’s the darlingest baby that ever was in the whole wide world! His name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old and he can smile,”
 
“Smile, Rosie?”
 
“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!”
 
“Sneeze, Rosie?”
 
“That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. “He can his eyes and double up his fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. There’s no doubt that he’s a baby. My mother says so. And pretty as—oh, he’s prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He’s a little too pink in the face and he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny spot in the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?”
 
“Oh, what?”
 
“She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock him some day and she said you could.”
 
“Oh! oh!”
 
“And what else do you think she’s going to let me do?”
 
“I can’t guess. Oh, tell me quick, Rosie.”
 
“She says she’s going to let me give him his bath Saturdays and Sundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage.”
 
“Rosie,” Maida said impressively, “you ought to be the happiest little girl in the world. Think of having a baby brother for a Christmas present. You will let me wheel him sometimes, won’t you?”
 
“Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly in half with you.”
 
“Where has your mother been all this time?” Maida asked.
 
“Oh, she’s been dreadfully sick in a hospital. She was sick after the baby came to her—so sick that she couldn’t even take care of him. She said they were afraid she was going to die. But she’s all right now. Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, long, red-silk dress that’s just to lie down in. She looks like a queen in it, and yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her hair is done in two braids. Her hair comes way down below her waist like your mother’s hair. And when I gave her the little silver heart, she was so pleased with it. She put it right on and it looked sweet. She said she would much rather wear it on a black ribbon than on a silver chain.”
 
“Everything’s come out all right, hasn’t it?” Maida said with .
 
“I guess it has. Now I must go. I want to be sure to be there when the baby wakes up. I asked my mother when you could see the baby, Maida, and she said to-morrow. I can’t wait to show you its feet—you never did see such little toes in your life.”
 
Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing to what followed.
 
Granny and Maida were still talking about Rosie’s happiness when Billy Potter suddenly came marching through the shop and into the living-room.
 
“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they all said at once.
 
“Granny,” Billy asked immediately, “if you could have your choice of all the Christmas gifts in the world, which one would you choose?”
 
An expression of bewilderment came into Granny’s bright blue eyes.
 
“A Christmas gift, Misther Billy,” she said in an uncertain tone; “I cudn’t t’ink of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little Annie wid me.”
 
Maida saw Billy’s eyes snap and sparkle at the word Annie. She wondered what—Could it be possible that—She began to tremble.
 
“And so you’d choose your daughter, Granny?” Billy questioned.
 
“Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi wud!” Granny stopped to stare in at Billy. “Oh, Misther Billy, if you cud only foind her!” She gazed at him. Billy continued to smile at her, his eyes all “skrinkled up.” Granny jumped to her feet. She seized Billy’s arm. “Oh, Misther Billy, you have found her,” she quavered.
 
Billy nodded. “I’ve found her, Granny! I told you I would and I have. Now don’t get excited. She’s all right and you’re all right and everything’s all right. She’ll be here just as soon as you’re ready to see her.”
 
For a moment Maida was afraid Granny was going to faint, for she dropped back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. But at Billy’s last words the old fire came back to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. “Oi want to see her at wance,” she said with spirit.
 
“Listen,” Billy said. “Last night I happened to fall into conversation with a young Irishman who had come to read the gas-meter in my house. I asked him where he came from. He said, ‘Aldigarey, County Sligo.’ I asked him if he knew Annie Flynn. ‘Sure, didn’t she marry my cousin? She lives—’ Well, the short of it is that I went right over to see her, though it was late then. I found her a widow with two children. She nearly went crazy at the of seeing her mother again, but we agreed that we must wait until morning. We planned—oh, come in, Annie,” he called suddenly.
 
At his call, the shop door opened and shut. There was a rush of two pairs of feet through the shop. In the appeared a young woman carrying a baby. Behind her came a little boy on . Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. But Maida screamed.
 
Who do you suppose they were?
 
They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and Dicky.
 
“Oh, my mother!” Mrs. Dore said.
 
“My little Annie—my little girl,” Granny murmured. The tears began to stream down her cheeks.
 
Followed kissings and huggings by the dozen. Followed questions and answers by the score.
 
“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst us all this time,” Granny said after the excitement had died down. She was sitting on the couch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and Dicky on the other. “And sure, me own hearrt was telling me the trut’ all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut—for ’twas loving this foine little lad ivry minut av the day.” She patted Dicky’s head. “And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!” She cuddled Delia close. “OI’m the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld this day.”
 
It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinner together. Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments to bring their turkey to the feast.
 
“Granny, will you love me just the same now that you’ve got Dicky and Delia?” Maida said wistfully.
 
“Love you, my lamb? Sure, I’ll love you all the more for ’twas t’rough you I met Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I found me Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis the grand man you make for such a b’y that you are!”
 
“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.
 
When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on the dinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree. When the door opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny’s brogue growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dore relapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech. At such times, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always “skrinkled up............