The tennis court made a fine setting for the Christmas celebration, and had been carefully prepared for the great event.
The floor was covered with white canton flannel, so arranged over slight ridges and hummocks that it looked exactly like a field of drifted snow.
The tree, at the end of the room, was the largest that could be obtained, and was loaded with beautiful ornaments and decorations, and glittering with electric lights of all colours.
Patty had seen many Christmas trees, but never such a large or splendid one, and it almost took her breath away.
“I didn’t know trees ever grew so big,” she said. “How did you get it into the house?”
“It was difficult,” said Mr. Farrington. “I had to engineer the job myself. But Bobby asked for a big tree, and as the children are growing up so fast, I wanted to humour him.”
As Patty had often said, “for a millionaire, Mr. Farrington was the kindest man she ever knew.”
Though wealthy, he had no desire for display or ostentatious extravagance, but he loved to please his children, and was sufficiently rewarded by their enjoyment of the pleasures he provided.
Now, he was as frankly delighted with Bobby’s enthusiasm as Bobby was with his tree.
“Come on, old chappie,” he cried; “you shall be Santa Claus, and distribute the gifts.”