Their course down the Avenue was slow, owing to the crowded traffic; they had ample opportunity for observing the people, an amusement of which Betty never tired. Then afterwards a short spin in the Park, where the lights had already begun to gleam through the early winter dusk.
“Now for home,” said Jack decisively, when the hour had elapsed; and back they went to their hotel.
But when they entered their own sitting-room, nobody was there,—no tree, no presents, and no sign of any human being.
Betty opened the door of her mother’s bedroom, but that, too, was unoccupied, as, indeed, were all the bedrooms.
Betty looked frightened, and said, in a half-whisper: “Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to Mother?”
Then Jack laughed outright.
“Oh, Betty,” he said; “can’t you guess? I’ll wager Mother and Lisette are in the dining-room, and they’re fixing the tree in there!”
Sure enough, the dining-room door was closed, and when Betty flew to open it, she found it was locked as well.
“Let us in, Mother; let us in!” she cried.
“Not yet, my child,” said Mrs. McGuire, opening the door a tiny crack and peeping out. “You must all amuse yourselves till dinner-time.”