Notwithstanding the late hour at which the young people had retired on Christmas Eve, they were all up by times on Christmas day. All was lively bustle throughout the house. Everybody had Christmas gifts, at which each pretended to be as much surprised as he or she was expected to be.
Miss Anna had a little set of diamonds, consisting of ear-rings and brooch, presented by her grandfather; an ermine tippet and muff from her uncle; a set of antique lace from her aunt; a diamond bracelet from her betrothed; and from scape-grace Dick a real King Charles lap-dog, which she openly preferred to all her other presents, because she said it was alive, and could give love for love.
The old lady had a new patent easy chair, a new pair of gold spectacles, and a set of sables.
And the gentlemen of the party were overwhelmed with embroidered slippers, smoking-caps, dressing-gowns, penwipers, and so forth.
The housekeeper was presented with a new brown silk dress. And there was not a servant in the house but received a present.
“And who has got anything for little Drusilla?” inquired Mr. Alexander.
But nobody answered him.
“Well, I’m dashed! Only one bit of a baby in the house, and nobody has thought of her. And this especially a child’s festival, because it celebrates the birth of the Divine Child, who also loved little children! Say, mother, the shops are open in the city this morning, are they not?” inquired Mr. Alexander.
“Until ten o’clock, Alick; not after,” replied the old lady.
“All right, it is only eight now—plenty of time. I’m off; but I’ll be back to breakfast,” said Mr. Alexander, darting out of the drawing-room, seizing his hat in the hall, and rushing from the house.