"As usual," stuck in Alice mischievously.
"Oh, hush!" said Aunt Phyllis, looking up, "it is Christmas-day."
"I'm afraid Christmas-day is not a coat of steel mail, auntie," said Hugh.
"Steel mail?" she asked, wondering at his serious tone.
"Doesn't make us quite invulnerable."
"No, no; nothing does that while we have such a traitor inside us; but it does help us to have 'goodwill to men.'"
Hugh glanced at John—a glance which was noticed but not understood by several there.
"But Hugh has not told us after all what he guesses about grandmama's work," said Aunt Phyllis.
"It's a mat to put in front of your stand of flowers."
"You are nearest," said his grandmother, smiling, "but you are not quite right."