And then and there vanished forever from Patricia's heart that picture of a placid, wrinkled little old lady, knitting quietly at one corner of the fireplace.
CHAPTER IV
PATRICIA'S CHRISTMAS FAMILY
"There!" Patricia stepped back, with a sigh of satisfaction. "It's all ready for the presents. Custard Kirby," she bent to pat the small curly black dog, stretched lazily out on the hearth-rug, "on your honor, have you ever seen a prettier Christmas-tree? Good! There's Daddy!"
Patricia ran to open the front door. "Come and admire, Daddy," she urged.
Dr. Kirby went with her to the library; in the center of the broad square room stood the tree, its slender tip just escaping the ceiling.
"And I trimmed it nearly all myself!" Patricia explained, proudly. "Aunt Julia had to go out. Maybe you don't think I've been busy to-day, Daddy! I don't know but what it is a good thing that Christmas doesn't come more than once a year."
"I should be bankrupt if it did," the doctor said, pulling one of Custard's long ears. "An only daughter is rather an expensive luxury."
"As if I were anything more than a plain every-day necessity! And not such an incapable after all, am I, Daddy?"
"Not when it comes to Christmas-trees."