They scattered it all over the tree, the men going up on step-ladders to reach the top branches.
The tree was set in the great, high-vaulted hall, and was a noble specimen of an evergreen. Hundreds of electric lights were fastened to its branches; and the thick bayberry candles were placed by means of holders that clasped the tree trunk, and so were held firmly and safe.
Adèle’s prognostications had been correct. For, soon after luncheon, it began to snow. Fine flakes at first, but with a steadiness that betokened a real snowstorm.
“I’m so glad,” exclaimed Patty, dancing about. “I do love a white Christmas. It won’t interfere with your guests, will it, Adèle?”
“No; if Mr. Van Reypen and Mr. Farrington get up from New York without having their trains blocked by snowdrifts, I imagine our Fern Falls people will be able to get here for the dinner and the dance.”
The two men arrived during the afternoon, and came in laden with parcels and looking almost like Santa Claus himself.
“Had to bring all this stuff with us,” explained Roger, “for fear of delays with expresses and things. Presents for everybody,—and then some. Where shall we put them?”
Adèle superintended the placing of the parcels, and the men threw off their overcoats, and they all gathered round the blazing fire in the hall.
“This is right down jolly!” declared Philip Van Reypen. “I haven’t had a real country Christmas since I was a boy. And this big fire and the tree and the snowstorm outside make it just perfect.”
“I ordered the snowstorm,” said Adèle. “I like to have any little thing that will give my guests pleasure.”