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A miserable and merry Christmas? How could it be? A Miserable， Merry Christmas Christmas was coming. I wanted a pony. To make sure that my parents understood， I declared that I wanted noting else. Nothing but a pony? my father asked. Nothing， I said. Not even a pair of high boots? That was hard. I did want boots， but I stuck to the pony. No， not even boots. Nor candy? There ought to be something to fill your stocking with， and Santa Claus cant put a pony into a stocking， That was true， and he couldnt lead a pony down the chimney either 。 But no. All I want is a pony， I said. If I cant have a pony， give me nothing， nothing. On Christmas Eve I hung up my stocking along with my sisters. The next morning my sisters and I woke up at six. Then we raced downstairs to the fireplace. And there they were， the gifts， all sorts of wonderful things， mixed-up piles of presents. Only my stocking was empty; it hung limp; not a thing in it; and under and around itnothing. My sisters had knelt down， each by her pile of gifts; they were crying with delight， till they looked up and saw me standing there looking so miserable. They came over to me and felt my stocking： nothing. I dont remember whether I cried at that moment， but my sisters did. They ran with me back to my bed， and there we all cried till I became indignant. That helped some. I got up， dressed， and driving my sisters away， I went out alone into the stable， and there， all by myself， I wept. My mother came out to me and she tried to comfort me. But I wanted no comfort. She left me and went on into the house with sharp words for my father. | 
