"Do you want to put the lichen up in your room?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Not particularly,—why?"
"It is such a rare and beautiful specimen that I feel inclined to confiscate it for the library."
"I will give it up with pleasure," answered Kathie, readily, "since it remains mine all the same."
The Alstons had a quiet Christmas dinner by themselves. Uncle Robert gave the last touches to the tree, and just at dusk the small people who had been invited began to flock thither. Kathie had not asked any of her new friends or the older girls. She possessed by nature that simple tact, so essential to fine and true womanhood, of observing the distinctions of society without appearing to notice the different position of individuals.
Ethel Morrison came with the rest. She was beginning to feel quite at home in the great house, and yielded to Kathie's peculiar influence, which was becoming a kind of fascination, a power that might have proved a dangerous gift but for her exceeding truth and simplicity.
The tree was very brilliant and beautiful. If the gifts were not so expensive, they appeared to be just what every one wanted. Kathie was delighted with the compliment to her discernment.
Charlie Darrell made his appearance quite late in the evening, with Dick Grayson. The tapers were just burning their last.
"Farewell to thee, O Christmas tree!" sang Dick. "Was Santa Claus good to you, Miss Kathie?"