Ben spoke up then: “Do you remember I’ve never told you my name for you, Elsa? I’ve changed it now. It used to be Sad Girl, that’s why I didn’t tell you before; but now it’s going to be ‘Princess.’” Dropping a shy kiss on Elsa’s golden hair, Ben ran off in answer to a muffled summons.
At that same moment Cummings pulled back the heavy green velvet portières which separated the library from the drawing-room, and the glory of the Christmas-tree burst upon the children’s sight.
The tree, reaching nearly to the ceiling, stood at the farther end of the long drawing-room, its graceful branches fairly drooping with treasures. There were packages of every shape and description; there were long icicles, moving, swaying balls of silver and gold, scarlet and blue, glowing and sparkling in the mellow radiance of many wax candles; and there was a beautiful white Christmas angel at the very top of the tree. A warm, spicy odour of balsam fir filled the air, and a splendid, roaring fire in the great fireplace cast a ruddy light over the beautiful furnishings of the drawing-room.
Elsa, puzzled and excited by the events of the day, ran forward to greet Miss Ruth with a feeling as of seeking shelter. “Do you know that grandmother isn’t my grandmother really, but is Alice’s and Ben’s?” she said in a low tone, slipping her hand into Miss Ruth’s.
Ruth Warren, who had on the black lace gown with the little old lady’s coral beads around her neck, gazed in surprise at Elsa for a half moment. Then it was all so simple that she wondered why she had not thought of Mrs. Danforth’s possibly having been twice married. “We know now why both your grandmother—I mean Mrs. Danforth—and Mrs. Holt have the paintings alike,” said Miss Ruth.
“Yes, I remember—the picture of the house where grandmother used to live,” cried Elsa.
But one could not stop very long to think about any one thing, with that Christmas-tree in the room.
“I wish my Uncle Ned could be here,” Elsa exclaimed, as she swung around into sight of the tree. “He had to go to the city this noon. Perhaps he will come back before the tree is over. He said he would if he could.”
While Betty and Alice were gazing delightedly at the gorgeous tree, Miss Ruth asked Elsa, in a low voice, to go across the hall into the reception-room to find a Christmas surprise which was waiting for her there. And soon Elsa came back with shining, happy eyes, leading by the hand a short, comely-faced woman whose brown hair was slightly streaked with gray. “This is Bettina March, my dear, dear Bettina,” said Elsa, introducing the shy, modest little woman to the group of her friends; but Bettina, although she greeted them all in a musical voice, with a slight German accent, had eyes only for her beloved former charge, Elsa.
“Where is Ben?” asked Ruth Warren, in part to turn attention from the shrinking stranger, who was half-laughing, half-crying with joy, and in part because she was wondering who would take the presents from the tree.