Noel brightened up a little.
"I wish he could have stayed lighted up for ever. Don't you think he was much more beautiful than Hans Andersen's tree, Mums?"
"I daresay he was," said his mother, laughing. "Now run along, I am going to lock this room up again."
"Well, Cherub," said Miss Constance to Noel as she was wishing him good-bye, "has this quite come up to your expectations? I have never come across a small boy before who grew his own Christmas tree. I think it quite a good idea. Perhaps I had better start doing it. What do you think? Anyhow, you've managed to give us all a lot of pleasure. I really don't see that you'll have any left for Christmas Day, we have had it all beforehand."
"But to-morrow is my birfday," said Noel; "and it's Jesus Christ's birfday too. That's the enormous day to me."
"Is it? I thought the tree was the biggest thing in your life."
Noel pondered.
"So it is," he said, "but it's only because it belongs to it."
Miss Constance laughed, then she said:
"I'm afraid I shan't be able to get over to your church to-morrow. I must go to my own, so I wish you now, darling Cherub, very many happy returns of your birthday. I'm sure you'll have a happy day. I envy you."