Mr. Fairfield’s gift to his wife was a beautiful motor-car, and as they were going away for the holiday, he presented it to her the day before Christmas.

It was practically a gift to Patty as well, for the whole family could enjoy it.

“It’s perfectly lovely,” said Nan, as they all started out for a little spin, to try it. “I’ve had so much trouble of late with taxicabs, that it’s a genuine comfort to have my own car at my beck and call. It’s a lovely car, Fred, and Patty and I shall just about live in it.”

“I want you to enjoy it,” returned Mr. Fairfield, “and you may have every confidence in the chauffeur. He’s most highly recommended by a man I know well, and he’s both careful and skilful.”

“A nice-mannered man, too,” observed Patty. “I like his looks, and his mode of address. But if this car is partly my present, then I ought not to have had that gold money to buy drums with.”

“Oh, yes, you ought,” said her father. “That was your individual gift. In this car you and Nan are partners. By the way, Puss, did you ever get your forty drums? I didn’t hear about them.”

“You’re lucky that you didn’t hear them,” laughed Patty. “Yes, I did get them,—not all drums, some other toys,—and I took them down to the Sunshine place yesterday. I went with Mrs. Morse and Clementine. You know the kiddywids had their Christmas tree, the little poor children, and such a noise you never heard! They yelled and shouted for glee, and they banged drums and tooted horns, and then they sang songs, and I think I never knew such a noisy celebration, even on the fourth of July.”

“And were they glad to get your gifts?”

“Oh, yes, indeed! Why, just think, father, the little girls all had dolls, but if I hadn’t taken the gifts for the boys, they would only have had candy or an orange. Next Christmas I’m going to do more for them.”

“I’m glad to see your charitable spirit waking up, Patty-girl. I don’t want you to be a mere social butterfly. But, you know, you needn’t wait for Christmas to make the poor babies happy.”

“No; I know it, daddy, dear; and after Christmas is over, I’m going to try to do some good in the world.”

“Now, Patty,” said Nan, “don’t you go in for settlement work, and that sort of thing. I won’t let you. You’re not strong enough for it.”

“I don’t know exactly what settlement work is,” said Patty, “but I do know I’m not going to be a mere butterfly. I’m going to accomplish something worth while.”

“Well, wait till the holiday season is over,” advised Mr. Fairfield. “You’ve made forty boys happy, now turn your attention to making your family and friends happy. What are you going to give your poor old father for a Christmas gift, I should like to know.”

“I haven’t any such relative as you describe,” returned Patty, smiling at him affectionately. “I have a young and handsome father, and I think he seems to be rather a rich gentleman. Also I have a gift awaiting him at home, and I think we’d better be going there.”

“I do, too,” said Nan. “We’ve none too much time to get our luncheon and go to the train. Oh! what a comfort it will be to go to the train in our own motor-car.”

“Yes,” said Patty, “and then Miller can come back and take me over to Elise’s.”

So home they went, and had their own little Christmas celebration, before they went their separate ways.

“This is a make-believe Christmas feast,” said Patty, as they sat at their own luncheon table.

She had placed a sprig of holly at each plate, and a vase of poinsettia blossoms graced the centre of the table.

“This ox-tail soup is in place of the boar’s head,” she went on, gaily; “and I know we are going to have chicken croquettes, which we will pretend are the roast turkey. And then we’ll have our presents, as I know you two will fly for your train as soon as you leave the table.”

So Patty gave Nan her present, which was a lovely white couch pillow of lace and embroidery. And Nan gave Patty a picture to hang in her own room. It was a beautiful water-colour, a Venetian scene, and Patty was delighted with it.

Then Patty gave her father a gold penholder, which she had had made expressly for him, and engraved with his name.

“Why, that’s fine, Pattykins!” he exclaimed. “I can only write poems with a pen like that. It’s not made for business letters, I’m sure.”

“Of course it isn’t,” said Patty, gaily; “it’s to keep on your desk in the library here at home. And you must use it just for social correspondence or–”

“Or to sign checks for us,” suggested Nan, smiling.

“That’s just what I’ll do with it,” declared Mr. Fairfield. “It’s a gem of a pen; Patty, you know my weakness for fine desk appointments, don’t you?”

Nan gave her husband a watch fob, on which hung a locket containing a miniature of her own sweet face. Neither Patty nor her father had seen this before, as Nan had been careful to keep the matter secret in order to surprise them.

It was a real work of art, and so winsome was the pictured face that Patty cried out in admiration: “What a stunner you are, Nan! I didn’t realise you were so good-looking,—but it’s exactly like you.”

“That’s a mixed-up compliment, Patty,” laughed Nan, “but I’ll surmise that you mean well.”

“I do so! I think it’s a lovely picture of a lovely lady! There, how’s that?”

“Much better,” said Nan, as Patty caught her round the shoulders and kissed her affectionately.

“Give me the lady,” said Mr. Fairfield, taking Nan into his own arms. “As the portrait is a gift to me, I will kiss her for it, myself.”

“Do,” said Patty, “but if you give her more than three kisses, you’ll lose your train; it’s getting pretty late.”

“Is it?” cried Mr. Fairfield. “Then, Jane, bring in those two boxes I left in your charge, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” cried the waitress, and, leaving the room, she returned in a moment with two large white boxes.

“These are Christmas gifts to the two loveliest ladies I know,” said Mr. Fairfield, gallantly tendering a box to each.

“But I’ve had my Christmas gift from you!” exclaimed Patty, and “So have I!” cried Nan.

“Nevertheless these are laid at your feet,” said Mr. Fairfield, calmly depositing the boxes on the floor in front of them.

“Oh, well, we may as well see what they are,” said Patty, untying the white ribbons that fastened her box.

Nan did likewise, and in a moment they were both rapturously exclaiming over two sets of white furs that nestled in billows of white tissue paper.

Nan’s furs were ermine, and Patty’s were soft, fluffy, white fox, and so beautiful were they that the two recipients donned them at once, and posed side by side before the mirror, admiring themselves and each other. Then, with a simultaneous impulse they turned to thank the donor, and Mr. Fairfield found himself suddenly entangled in four arms and two boas, while two immense muffs met at the back of his neck and enveloped his head and ears.

“Have mercy!” he cried; “come one at a time, can’t you? Yes, yes, I’m glad you’re pleased, but do get this fur out of my mouth! I feel as if I were attacked by polar bears!”

“Oh, Fathery Fairfield,” Patty cried, “you are the dearest thing in the world! How did you know I wanted furs? And white fox, of all things! And ermine for Nan! Oh, but you are a good gentleman! Isn’t he, stepmother?”

“He’ll do,” said Nan, smiling roguishly at her husband, who, somehow, seemed satisfied with this faint praise.

“Now, scamper, Nan-girl,” he cried, “if you would see your mother to-day, you must leave here in less than an hour. Can you be ready?”

“I can’t, but I will,” replied Nan, gaily, as she ran away to prepare for her journey.

Patty, too, went to her room to get ready for her visit at the Farringtons’. She was to stay three days, and as there were several parties planned for her entertainment, she packed a small trunk with several of her prettiest gowns. Also, she had a suitcase full of gifts for the Christmas tree, which was to be part of the festivities.

She bade her parents good-by when they started, and watched the new motor-car disappear round the corner, then returned to her own preparations.

“I do have lovely things,” she thought to herself, as she folded her dainty garments and laid them in their places.

Then she glanced again at her new furs.

“I have too much,” she thought; “it isn’t fair for one girl to have so much, when so many poor people have nothing. I wonder what I ought to do about it.”

Poor Patty was confronting the problem that has troubled and baffled so many honest hearts, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed insoluble.

“At any rate, it would be absurd to give my white furs, or my chiffon frocks to poor people,” she concluded, “for they couldn’t use them. Well, after the holidays, I’m going to see what I can do. But now, I must hurry, or I’ll be late.”

An hour or two later, she found herself in the Farringtons’ home.

“What lovely furs, Patty,” exclaimed Mrs. Farrington, “and how well they suit you!”

They were extremely becoming, and Patty’s pretty face, with its soft colour and smiling eyes, rose like a flower from the white fur at her throat.

“Yes, aren’t they beautiful?” Patty responded. “Father just gave them to me, and I’m so pleased with them.”

“And well you may be. Now, you girls run away and play, for I’ve a thousand things to do.”

Indeed, Mrs. Farrington was in a whirlpool of presents that she was both sending and receiving. Maids and footmen were running hither and thither, bringing messages or carrying out orders, and as the whole house was full of warmth and light, and the spicy fragrance of Christmas greens, Patty fairly revelled in the pleasant atmosphere.

She was of a nature very susceptible to surroundings. Like a cat, she loved to bask in warm sunshine, or in a luxurious, softly-furnished place. Moreover, she was fond of Elise, and so looked forward to her three days’ visit with glad anticipation.

After Patty had laid aside her things, the two girls sat down to chat in the big hall on the second floor of the mansion. A wood-fire was blazing, and soft, red-shaded lights cast a delightful glow.

“Elise,” said Patty, somewhat suddenly, “don’t you think we have too much riches and things?”

Elise stared at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Patty laughed at her friend’s blank expression, but she went on.

“I mean just what I say. Of course, you have lots more riches and things than I have; but I think we all have too much when we think of the poor people who haven’t any.”

“Oh, you mean Socialism,” exclaimed Elise, suddenly enlightened.

“No, I don’t mean Socialism. I mean plain, every-day charity. Don’t you think we ought to give away more?”

“Why, yes, if you like,” said Elise, who was greatly puzzled. “Do you want me to subscribe to some charity? I will.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll hold you to that,” said Patty, slowly; “for after the holidays I’m going to try to do something in the matter. I don’t know just what; I haven’t thought it out yet. But I’m not going to be what my father calls a ‘mere social butterfly,’ and I don’t believe you want to, either.”

“No, I don’t; but do leave it all till after the holidays, Patty, for now I want you to help me with some Christmas presents.”

Elise looked so worried and so beseeching that Patty laughed. Then she kissed her, and said: “All right, Lisa mine. Command me. My services are at your disposal.”

So the girls went up to the Sun Parlour, where Elise had all her choicest belongings, and where she now had her array of Christmas gifts.

The room was entirely of glass, and by a careful arrangement of double panes and concealed heat-pipes, was made comfortable even in the coldest weather. Flowers and plants were round the sides; birds in gilt cages sang and twittered; and gilt wicker furniture gave the place a dainty French effect that was charming. On the tables were strewn Christmas gifts of all sorts.

“I’m just tying up the last ones,” said Elise. “Don’t be afraid to look; yours is safely hidden away. Now, here’s what I want to know.”

She picked up a gold seal ring, which, however, had no crest or monogram cut on it,—and a bronze paper cutter.

“They’re lovely,” said Patty, as she looked at them. “Who catches these?”

“That’s just what I don’t know. I bought the ring for Roger and the paper cutter for Kenneth Harper; he’s coming to-night. But I’d like to change them about and give the ring to Ken, and the paper knife to Roger. Would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Patty, bluntly. “Why do you want to do such a thing?”

“The ring is much the handsomer gift,” said Elise, who had turned a trifle pink.

“Of course it is,” said Patty, “and that’s why you should give it to your brother. It’s too personal a gift to give to a boy friend.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Elise, with a little sigh. “But Roger won’t care for it at all, and Kenneth would like it heaps.”

“Because you gave it to him?” asked Patty, quickly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Yes, perhaps so.”

“Nonsense, Elise! You’re too young to give rings to young men.”

“Ken isn’t a young man, he’s only a boy.”

“Well, he’s over twenty-one; and anyway, I know it wouldn’t be right for you to give him a ring. Your mother wouldn’t like it at all.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t care.”

“Well, she ought to, and I think she would. Now, don’t be silly; give the ring to Roger, and if you want something grander than this bronze jig for Ken, get him a book. As handsome a book as you choose; but a book. Or something that’s impersonal. Not a ring or a watch-fob, or anything like that.”

“But he gave you a necklace,—the day we sailed for Paris.”

“Fiddle-de-dee! It was only a locket, with the merest thread of a gold chain; and anyway, I never wore it but once or twice.”

“Well, you oughtn’t to have accepted it, if a personal gift is so reprehensible.”

“Elise, you’re a goose!” said Patty, losing her patience at last. “A gift like that is not in very good taste from a boy to a girl; but from a girl to a boy, it’s very much worse. And, anyway, it was different in my case; for Ken and I are old friends, which you and he are not. And, beside, father knew about it, and he said as a parting keepsake it was all right. But at a Christmas tree, in your own house,—Elise, you’ll make a great mistake if you give Kenneth Harper a seal ring.”

“All right, Patty, you know I always do just as you say, so I’ll give it to Roger.”

Patty knew she had judged rightly in the matter, but she also knew that Elise was greatly disappointed at her decision.

She had already noticed that Elise liked handsome Kenneth, but if she did, that was only an added reason why she should not make him a present of a ring.

“She ought to have had more sense!” Patty said to herself, indignantly. “And I’m sorry if she’s sorry; but I couldn’t let her do such a foolish thing!”

CHAPTER IV
A SPLENDID TREE

The Christmas Eve dinner was set for an early hour, that the younger Farrington children might take part in the festivities.

Beside Elise and Roger, there were two younger girls, Louise and Hester, and Bobby, aged ten.

When Patty went down to the drawing-room, she found these three eager with anticipation of the Christmas frolic about to begin.

Kenneth Harper was there too, but there were no other guests, as this evening was to be a family celebration. Soon the other members of the household appeared, and then dinner was announced, and they all went to the dining-room.

Mr. Farrington offered his arm to Patty, and escorted her out first, as guest of honour. Mrs. Farrington followed with Kenneth, and then the five Farrington children came out less formally.

A burst of applause greeted their first sight of the dinner table. It was indeed a Christmas feast to the eye as well as to the palate.

In the centre of the table was a Christmas tree, decorated with tinsel and gay ornaments, and lighted by tiny electric bulbs.

At each plate also, was a tiny Christmas tree, whose box-shaped standards bore the names of the diners.

“Here’s mine!” cried Bobby, as he slid into his chair. “Oh, what a jolly dinner!”

On the little place trees hung nuts and bonbons which were to be eaten, “at the pleasure of the performer,” as Roger expressed it.

The table was also decked with holly and red ribbons, and the various viands, as they were served, were shaped or decorated in keeping with the occasion.

The Farrington household was conducted on a most elaborate plan, and their dinners were usually very formal and conventional. But to-night was an exception, and, save for the solemn butler and grave footmen, everybody in the room was bubbling over with laughter and merriment.

“I’m not hungry any more,” declared Bobby, after he had done full justice to several courses; “let’s hurry up, and have the tree.”

“Wait, Bobs,” advised Hester; “we haven’t had the ice cream yet.”

“Oh, that’s so,” said Bobby; “can’t we have it now, mother, and skip these flummerydiddles?”

He looked scornfully at the dainty salad that had just been placed before him, but Mrs. Farrington only smiled, not caring to remind him of the laws of table etiquette on a festive occasion.

“Have patience, Bobby, dear,” she said; “the ice cream will come next; and, too, you know the longer the dinner, the later you can sit up.”

“That’s so!” agreed Bobby. “My, but Christmas Eve is fun! Wish I could sit up late every night.”

“But it wouldn’t be Christmas Eve every night,” said Patty, smiling at the chubby-faced boy.

“That’s so! Neither no more it wouldn’t! Well, I wish it was Christmas Eve every night, then!”

“That’s right,” laughed Patty. “Make a good big wish while you’re about it.”

Then the ice cream was served and of course it was in shapes of Christmas trees, and Santa Clauses, and sprigs of holly, and Christmas bells, and Patty’s portion was a lovely spray of mistletoe bough.

“Ho, ho!” laughed Kenneth, seeing it across the table; “another good chance lost! You know the penalty, Patty, if you’re caught under the mistletoe. But of course if you eat mistletoe, the charm fails.”

“I’m willing it should,” said Patty, as she took up her spoon. “I’m not pining for a rustic swain to kiss me ’neath the mistletoe bough.”

Patty looked very roguish and provoking as she said this, and Mr. Farrington said, gallantly:

“Ah, no, perhaps not. But the swains are doing the pining, without doubt.”

Now Roger sat on the other side of Patty, and as his father finished speaking, he said, apparently apropos of nothing:

“Mother, are these your Spode plates, or are they Cauldon ware?”

“They’re Spode, Roger; why do you want to know? Are you suddenly becoming interested in China?”

“Yes,” he replied; “are you sure, mother, these are Spode?”

He lifted the handsome plate in front of him, and gazed intently at the mark on its under side, as he held it just above the level of his eyes.

“Be careful, Roger, you’ll spill your ice cream,” admonished his father.

“No, I won’t, sir,” he said, as he replaced his plate. “But I never saw Spode with this decoration before. Let me look at yours, Patty.”

He took up Patty’s plate of ice cream, and lifting it quite high studied the stamp on that.

Suddenly he moved it, until the dish of mistletoe ice cream was directly over Patty’s head.

“Fairly caught!” he cried; “under the mistletoe!” And before Patty caught the jest, Roger had kissed her pretty pink cheek, and then calmly restored her plate of ice cream to its place in front of her.

“You villain!” she cried, glaring at him, and pretending to be greatly offended, but smiling in spite of herself at his clever ruse.

“Good for you, my boy!” cried Mr. Farrington, clapping his hands. “I wish I had thought of that myself. But it’s a game that won’t work twice.”

“Indeed it won’t!” said Patty, “I’ll take care of that!” and she began to eat her mistletoe ice cream in proof of her words.

“It never can happen again,” said Kenneth, in sad tones, as he watched the “mistletoe” disappear. “But I’ll not give up all hope. It’s still Christmas Eve, and there are other mistletoes and other manners.”

“And other girls,” said Patty, glancing mischievously at Elise.

“Yes, there are four of us,” said Louise, so innocently that they all laughed.

“All right, Louise,” said Kenneth, “you find a nice, big spray of mistletoe, after dinner, and wear it in that big topknot bow of yours, and I’ll promise to kiss you on both cheeks.”

But Louise was too shy to respond to this repartee, and she dropped her eyes in confusion.

“Now,” said Mrs. Farrington, as she rose from the table, “we’ll have our Christmas Waits sing carols, and then we’ll have our tree.”

The children understood this, and Hester and Bobby at once ran out of the room. A few moments later they returned, dressed in trailing white robes, like surplices, and before they reached the drawing-room, their childish voices could be heard singing old-fashioned carols.

They had been well trained, and sang very prettily, and as they appeared in the doorway, Patty could scarcely believe that these demure little white-robed figures were the two merry children.

After two or three carols by the “Waits,” the whole party joined in a Christmas chorus, and Patty’s clear soprano rang out sweetly in the harmony.

“What a lovely voice you have, Patty, dear,” said Mrs. Farrington, as the song was done; “it has improved greatly since I heard you last. Are you taking lessons?”

“I shall, Mrs. Farrington, after we get fairly settled. Father wants me to begin as soon as he can find the right teacher.”

“Yes, indeed; you must do so. It would be a shame not to cultivate such a talent as that.”

“You have improved, Patty!” declared Kenneth. “My! but your voice is stunning. I expect we’ll see you on the concert stage yet.”

“More likely on a Fifth Avenue stage,” said Patty, laughing.

“Now for the tree!” exclaimed Bobby, who had thrown aside his white robe, and was ready for the fun to begin.

The tree had been set up in the indoor tennis-court, which was in the Casino.

This Casino, practically another house, opened from the great hall of the Farrington mansion, and its various apartments were devoted to different sorts of amusements.

The tennis court made a fine setting for the Christmas celebration, and had been carefully prepared for the great event.

The floor was covered with white canton flannel, so arranged over slight ridges and hummocks that it looked exactly like a field of drifted snow.

The tree, at the end of the room, was the largest that could be obtained, and was loaded with beautiful ornaments and decorations, and glittering with electric lights of all colours.

Patty had seen many Christmas trees, but never such a large or splendid one, and it almost took her breath away.

“I didn’t know trees ever grew so big,” she said. “How did you get it into the house?”

“It was difficult,” said Mr. Farrington. “I had to engineer the job myself. But Bobby asked for a big tree, and as the children are growing up so fast, I wanted to humour him.”

As Patty had often said, “for a millionaire, Mr. Farrington was the kindest man she ever knew.”

Though wealthy, he had no desire for display or ostentatious extravagance, but he loved to please his children, and was sufficiently rewarded by their enjoyment of the pleasures he provided.

Now, he was as frankly delighted with Bobby’s enthusiasm as Bobby was with his tree.

“Come on, old chappie,” he cried; “you shall be Santa Claus, and distribute the gifts.”

Meantime, the older ones were admiring the decorations of the room. Round the walls were smaller evergreen trees of varying heights, giving the effect of a clearing in a grove of evergreens. The ceiling had been draped across with dark blue material, and was studded with stars, made of tiny electric lights.

Bunches and wreaths of holly, tied with red ribbons, gave a touch of colour to the general effect, and in one corner beneath a green arched bower, a chime of bells pealed softly at intervals.

Altogether, the whole place breathed the very spirit of Christmas, and so perfect were the appointments, that no false note marred the harmony of it all.

“Now for the presents!” cried Bobby. “Oh, daddy, there’s my ’lectric railroad! Won’t you other people wait till I see how it works?”

The others all laughed at the eager, apologetic little face, as Bobby found it impossible to curb his impatience to see his new toy.

It was indeed a fine electric railway, and every one became interested as Mr. Farrington began to take it from its box and put the parts together.

“This is the way it goes, dad,” said Roger, kneeling on the floor beside his father.

“No, this way,” said Kenneth, as he adjusted some of the parts.

Quite content to wait for their gifts, Mrs. Farrington and the girls stood round watching the proceedings with interest, and soon Patty and Elise were down on the floor, too, breathlessly waiting the completion of the structure, and cheering gaily as the first train went successfully round the long track. Other trains followed, switches were set, signals opened or closed, bridges crossed, and all the manœuvres of a real railroad repeated in miniature.

“I haven’t had so much fun since I was a kid,” said Kenneth, rising from the floor and mopping his heated brow with his handkerchief.

“Nor I!” declared Mr. Farrington. “I’d rather rig up that toy for that boy of mine than—than to own a real railroad!”

“I believe you would!” said his wife, laughing. “And now, suppose you see what Santa Claus has for the rest of us.”

“Father’s all in,” said Roger. “You sit on that heap of snow, dad, and Kenneth and I will unload these groaning branches.”

Bobby was too absorbed in his cars to think of anything else, so the little girls acted as messengers to distribute the gifts from the tree.

And this performance was a lengthy one.

Parcel after parcel, daintily wrapped and tied, was given to Patty, and, of course, the Farringtons had many more.

But Patty had a great quantity, for knowing where she was to spend her Christmas, all her young friends had sent gifts to her at the Farringtons’, and the accumulation was almost as great as Elise’s.

“I’m helpless,” said Patty, as she sat with her lap full of gifts, boxes and papers strewn all about her on the floor, and Louise or Hester still bringing her more parcels.

“Let me help you,” said Kenneth, as he picked up a lot of her belongings.

As he was only a dinner guest, of course Kenneth had no such array of gifts, though the Farringtons had given him some pretty trifles, and Patty gave him a charming little Tanagra statuette she had brought from Florence.

“See what Elise gave me,” he remarked, as he showed the bronze paper-knife. “Jolly, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed,” returned Patty, relieved to see that Elise had not given him the ring after all. “It’ll be fine to cut your briefs when you’re a real out-and-out lawyer. What are briefs, anyway?”

“Little girls shouldn’t use words of which they don’t know the meaning,” said Kenneth, reprovingly.

“Well, anyway, if they’re brief enough, they won’t need cutting,” returned Patty, saucily, and then returned to the opening of her own presents.

She had pretty little gifts from Hilda Henderson, Lorraine Hamilton, Clementine Morse, and many of the other girls, some of whom she had not seen since her return to New York.

“Isn’t it lovely to have so many friends?” said she, looking over her pile of gifts at Kenneth.

“Do you love them all?” he asked, smiling back at her happy face.

“Oh, indeed I do. Not exactly because they’ve given me all these pretty things, for I love the girls just as much in the summer time as at Christmas. But because they’re my friends, and so,—I love them.”

“Boys are your friends, too,” suggested Kenneth.

“Of course they are!” Patty agreed; “and I love them, too. I guess I love everybody.”

“Rather a big order,” said Roger, coming up just then. “Loving everybody, you can’t give a very large portion to each one.”

“No,” said Patty, pretending to look downcast. “Now, isn’t that too bad! Well, never mind, I’ve plenty of gratitude to go round, anyway. And I offer you a big share of that, Roger, for this silver box.”

“Do you like it? Oh, please like it, Patty.”

“Of course I do; it’s exquisite workmanship, and I shall use it for,—well, it seems most too prosaic,—but it’s exactly the right shape and size for hairpins!”

“Then use it for ’em! Why not?” cried Roger, evidently pleased that Patty could find a use for his gift.

“And see what Ken gave me,” went on Patty, as she held up a small crystal ball. “I’ve long wanted a crystal, and this is a beauty.”

“What’s it for?” asked Roger, curiously; “it looks like a marble.”

“Marble, indeed! Why, Roger, it’s a crystal, a Japanese rock crystal.”

“Isn’t it glass?”

“No, ignorant one! ’Tis not glass, but a curio of rare and occult value. In it I read the future, the past, and the present.”

“Yes, it is a present, I know,” said Roger, and in the laugh at this sally the subject was dropped, but Roger secretly vowed to look up the subject of crystals and find out why Patty was so pleased with a marble.

“Elise is simply snowed under,” said Kenneth, as they heard rapturous exclamations from the other side of the room, where Elise was examining her gifts.

“Think of it!” cried Patty; “she had everything a girl could possibly want yesterday, and now to-day she has a few bushels more!”

It was literally true. Getting free, somehow, of her own impedimenta, Patty ran over to see Elise’s things.

“You look like a fancy bazaar gone to smash,” she declared, as she saw Elise in the midst of her Christmas portion.

“I feel like an International Exhibition,” returned Elise. “I’ve gifts from all parts of the known world!”

“And unknown!” said Kenneth, picking up various gimcracks of whose name or use he had no idea.

“But this is what I like best,” she went on, smiling at Kenneth, as she held up the dainty little card-case he had given her. “I shall use this only when calling on my dearest friends.”

“Good for you!” he returned. “Glad you like it. And as I know you’ve lots of dearest friends, I’ll promise, when it’s worn out, to give you another.”

Elise looked a trifle disappointed at this offhand response to her more earnest speech, but she only smiled gaily, and turned the subject.