"I hope," said Mrs. Crane, with a lingering, backward glance, when there was no further excuse for remaining outdoors, "that the air will be as quiet to-night as it is now. It would be dreadful if we couldn't light the candles."
"We'll have to trust to luck," returned Mr. Black, "but I'm quite sure that luck will be with us."
Of course the girls enjoyed their stockings at home, their gifts that arrived by mail and express from out-of-town relatives and the bountiful dinners at the home tables. But the Black-Crane tree to which Henrietta, likewise, had been invited, was something entirely new and so proved particularly enjoyable; if not, indeed, the crowning event of the day. Martin had cleared away the snow and had laid boards and even a carpet for them to stand on, and there were chairs and extra wraps, only the girls were too excited to use them. But Mrs. Crane and placid Rosa Marie sat enveloped in steamer rugs while the others capered about the brilliantly lighted tree, constantly discovering new beauties.
"I declare," sighed Mrs. Crane, happily, "you're the youngest of the lot, Peter."
"Well," returned Mr. Black, "why not? It's the first real Christmas I've had for forty years—but let's have another Christmas dinner on New Year's Day; I was disappointed when all these young folks said, 'No, thank you,' to our invitation to dinner. Just remember, girls, we expect to see you all here the first of January or there'll be trouble—I'll see that it lasts all the year, too."
"Peter Black," warned Mrs. Crane, "that step-ladder's prancing on one leg. If you go over that bluff you won't stop till you land in the lake. Let Martin do all the circus acts."
"I've got it, now," said Mr. Black, coming down safely with the small parcel that had dangled so long just above his reach. "Here's something for Henrietta Bedford, with the tree's compliments."
"How nice of you to remember me," cried Henrietta, opening the parcel. "And what a dear little pin—just what I needed. Thank you very much indeed."
Of all their gifts, however, the Cottagers liked their lovely little watches the best. They had expected no such magnificent gifts from Mr. Black, and their own people had, of course, considered them much too young to be trusted with watches.
"Dear me," said Mabel, strutting about with her timepiece pinned to her blouse, "I feel too grown-upedy for words. I never expected this moment to come."