Brownie went, neighing and prancing, to her stall,
White Face walked demurely off with a bellow, which Spotty, the calf,
running at her heels, tried to imitate; the little lamb skipped
bleating away; Piggywig walked off with a grunt; Pussy jumped on the
fence with a mew; the squirrel still sat up in the tree cracking her
nuts; Bunny hopped to her snug little quarters; while Rover, barking
loudly, chased the chickens back to their coop. Such a hubbub of
noises! Mamma said it sounded as if they were trying to say "Merry
Christmas to you, Johnny! Merry Christmas to all."
XXIV. THE PHILANTHROPIST'S CHRISTMAS*
This story was first published in the Youth's Companion, vol. 82.
JAMES WEBER LINN
"Did you see this committee yesterday, Mr. Mathews?" asked the
philanthropist.
His secretary looked up.
"Yes, sir."
"You recommend them then?"
"Yes, sir."
"For fifty thousand?"
"For fifty thousand--yes, sir."
"Their corresponding subscriptions are guaranteed?"
"I went over the list carefully, Mr. Carter. The money is promised, and
by responsible people."
"Very well," said the philanthropist. "You may notify them, Mr.
Mathews, that my fifty thousand will be available as the bills come in."
"Yes, sir."
Old Mr. Carter laid down the letter he had been reading, and took up
another.
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