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"Not quite so good as last week, Eddie. Hurt your foot? Too bad. Thought something must be the matter." And so it goes on all through the afternoon.

Meanwhile, Miss Groff stands behind the counter with her two or three grown-up helpers. She knows every child. A glance at his 'account' and she knows just how much he has to his credit; it may be only the amount earned for the week or much more, for these customers are not all free spenders. Some spend less than they earn. There is an occasional one who spends nothing. These few always want to know, however, how their balance stands.

The storekeeper knows just about how much sweet stuff, and what kind, each of her customers ought to have. Her suggestions save a lot of later discomfort and check extravagant impulses. You've ten dollars and seven cents, John. Your mother sent ten dollars last week. What do you want?" John tells her. "All right." Then to one of her assistants, "Let John have a necktie, some garters, writing paper, fruit, candy and crackers." "About two dollars, John; that be enough?" John nods and proceeds to select his tie, a pair of blue silk garters and the other things from the stock displayed on the long counter. They are all tied up for him and he carries them back to his cottage.

"Not too much candy for Billy. It isn't good for him. Doctor's orders. Sure, fig-newtons are just the thing."

"Eddie? Tooth paste? It's ten cents. Peanuts? That's five cents more. Yes; a ten cent bag of candy. That makes twenty-five cents. You've got ten cents left. Better leave it for next week, don't you think ?"

That is the way the storekeeper manages and it is done so understandingly and smilingly that her small customers go happily back to their cottages to enjoy the rewards of their own efforts. Of course the girls, too, shop on Store Day. The procedure is the same for them. Small customers are never hurried in their shopping, and as might be expected, the girls take a little more time for theirs.

The atmosphere of the store on Store Day is something that might well make certain storekeepers in the outside world a bit envious. Every customer gets special attention. Nobody gets impatient or cross. If Billy takes five minutes to decide between a red and green all-day-sucker that is quite all right. If he needs help finally, a quiet suggestion from the storekeeper "I believe I'd take the red one" settles it. The Village store has developed to a high degree the art of understanding and pleasing its customers.

The best time of all to see real shopping, real art in handling customers, is at Christmas time. It takes more than one day for that and the holiday shopping has to be done early. Every package must be wrapped just so, with plenty of seals inside and out, and ready to be sent in time to reach their homes by Christmas. The store displays its stock so that every child can see it, enjoy its wonders and, after many changes of mind, decide on this for father and that for mother and these for brothers and those for sisters; often there are aunts and uncles too.

Bessie has ten home folks to whom she wants to send presents. She has only a dollar, saved, perhaps a few pennies a week out of her five cents a week earnings. She begins her shopping. Here's a necktie for father, seventy-five cents; a box of handkerchiefs for mother, a dollar; a pair of gloves for Jim, fifty cents; this box of candy for Jennie, sixty cents! and so it goes on until her first selections have run up to six or seven dollars. All she has is a dollar but to that fact she is quite indifferent. A lot of people are like that but they do get a 'kick' out of the idea of spending. Bessie was having a glorious time with her shopping. The thrill of it was not a whit less when Miss Groff suggested "Don't you think father would like this pretty Christmas card instead of the necktie?" Of course he would; if possible it has more colors in it. Bessie's shopping was taking a wider range and her joy correspondingly. "How about this beautiful handkerchief in its own sweet little box instead of those others?" Bessie changed her mind instantly. The card was ten cents, the handkerchief fifteen. When she got through she and Miss Groff had had the most wonderful shopping trip together, every one of the family had been remembered and she had not gone in debt for any of it. The store would take care of the packing and postage. During the next three weeks, until Bessie heard from home, she could hug herself and shiver with delight as she followed her package home and see the folks dancing around when it was opened.

The children of The Village of Happiness feel, if they do not know, that it is more blessed to give than to receive. How "Miss Annie" started the giving by the children is another story, as will appear.

CHRISTMAS AT THE VILLAGE OF HAPPINESS

Christmas is, of course, the big event of the year. Nobody has any doubt of the reality of Santa Claus. He has visited the Village in person every year. Every child and every grown-up sees him and that settles the matter. Everybody is in the assembly hall on Christmas Eve. "On tip-toe" doesn't express it. Everybody is higher than that with the delicious thrill of expectation. It is seven-thirty. Santa Claus is due. No sound of bells. Somebody -- the Director himself -- opens a window. He leans so far out that there are shouts of concern lest he break his neck, so somebody has to hold his feet while he listens for the bells. Everybody is suddenly silent. Nothing. He slides back into the hall, turns a disappointed face to the sea of anxious ones. Fearful of some catastrophe they almost whisper, "Did'ja hear him?" "Is he comin'?" and he sadly shakes his head. The demand growing louder and louder, "Telephone him, telephone him." Some far-seeing soul has put up a telephone near the stage where the curtain is down. An old phone but a good one, for the Director winds the crank and the bell rings. He puts the receiver to his ear and waits. Central is asleep. Will she never waken? Such suspense. Then "Hello, give me the North Pole." Another wait. The suspense is terrific. Finally, "Hello, is this the North Pole?" "Who's talking?" "Mrs. Santa Claus?" "Oh, this is The Training School. Where's Santy? He was to be here at seven-thirty and it's now seven-forty." Another awful wait. Then, "He went to the Colony first? Must have spent too much time there?" Groans of disapproval interrupted by "On his way here now? Ought to be here in a minute or two? Thank you. Goodbye." Groans changed to cheers as the Director again opened the window, There was instant silence. Came the faint tinkle of bells which grew louder. Suddenly a loud "Whoa." Aback stage a door slammed. The big curtain went up. The huge Christmas tree, decorated and ablaze with colored lights, was surrounded by great piles of boxes and packages. Then such a shout as Santa himself strode onto the stage almost staggering under his pack. Those five hundred children and grown-ups knew that in the pack there was something special for each of them. Santa wasted no time in getting about his business even while he told them how glad he was to come again to The Village of Happiness because nowhere else did he get such a hearty welcome. While he worked and talked he still had time to shake hands with some of the older children who, presuming on old acquaintance, had crowded onto the stage; but white-haired Tim, who had welcomed him for nearly forty years and still believed, -- little, fragile, faithful Tim, was lifted from his feet in a great bear-hug of those mighty arms. Believe in Santa Claus? Here was proof, absolute, of his reality, not only to Tim but to all who witnessed that Christmas Eve party. Skeptics are converted at The Village of Happiness. They can't help it.