Do you remember it, papa?
And this Christmas day when he gave it to me?
the first Christmas that you were with me." She was holding up a tiny gold thimble.
"Yes, I think I do," he said.

"I certainly remember the day, the first Christmas after my return from Europe, the first on which I heard myself addressed as papa--the sweetest of child voices calling me that, and wishing me a merry Christmas, as the dearest, loveliest of little girls ran into my arms.

Dear daughter, what a priceless treasure you have been to me ever since!" he added, bending over her and softly smoothing her hair.

"It has always been a joy to call you mine." She caught his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips.

"Yes, dear, dear father! and to me to be so called.