"Who has eight?" he demanded.
"Here," said Win, giving up his slip in exchange for the tiny package, and presently laughing heartily over an absurd mechanical mouse. Ridiculous misfits in the presents made the distribution all the funnier, and the rejoicing was great when Roger, who didn't believe in washing his hands without being told to do so, drew a wee cake of soap. He took it good-naturedly and considered as an added joke, Estelle's hasty and shocked assurance that it was not meant especially for him.
Strange to say, some packages appeared on that tree of which Estelle was ignorant, conveyed by Roger to the proper persons. Edith was rendered speechless with joy over several lovely gifts, and tears filled Estelle's eyes. Nor were Nurse and Annette forgotten. The Thaynes had certainly lived up to the American reputation for generosity.
Then Nurse brought a big bowl filled with darting blue flames. The courageous shut one or both eyes, stuck in a fearful finger and extracted a fig or a fat raisin. Egg-nog and roasted Italian chestnuts completed Estelle's entertainment save for the holiday dinner of roast beef and plum pudding to follow on the morrow.
Unexpected by Estelle, her plans were supplemented by a group of parish school-children, led by the old organist, who came through the streets, singing Christmas carols: "God save you, merry gentlemen," "Good King Wenceslaus" and "As Joseph was a-waukin'"
In fascination Fran lingered on the steps long after the singers were gone, pleased with her distribution of pennies from her mother's purse and biscuit provided by Estelle. Far in the distance she could hear their voices. Yes, after all, an English Christmas had its points.
Next morning, Nurse's call seemed incredibly early to Frances, though she found the whole household awake and exchanging greetings. Mrs. Thayne decided to accompany Win and Fran, and Roger alone remained in bed.
The stars still shone brightly, making it seem the middle of the night, save for the hurrying groups bound for church, some still singing carols or hymns.
"It's like October weather at home, isn't it, Mother?" said Frances as they walked on through the crisp, clear air. "See, there are lights in the windows and people leaving lanterns in the porch."
The moment she entered, Frances understood what Connie meant by not missing that service for "anything in the world," and Win felt it even more keenly, being by nature more impressionable.