"Can't we creep up when no one's looking and have a private view?" suggested Piers.
Jeanie beamed at the idea. "I would like to, for I've been in the secret from the very beginning. But you must finish your tea first. We'll go when the crackers begin."
As the pulling of crackers was the signal for every child at the table to make as much noise as possible, it was not difficult to effect their retreat without exciting general attention. Avery alone noted their departure and smiled at Jeanie's flushed face as the child nodded farewell to her over Piers' shoulder.
"You do carry me so beautifully," Jeanie confided to him as he mounted the stairs to the top of the house. "I love the feel of your arms. They are so strong and kind. You're sure I'm not too heavy?"
"I could carry a dozen of you," said Piers.
They found the nursery brilliantly lighted and lavishly adorned with festoons of coloured paper.
"Aunt Avery and I did most of that," said Jeanie proudly.
Piers bore her round the room, admiring every detail, finally depositing
her in a big arm-chair close to the tall screen that hid the Christmas
Tree. Jeanie's leg was mending rapidly, and gave her little trouble now.
She lay back contentedly, with shining eyes upon her cavalier.
"It was very nice of you to be so kind to Gracie last night," she said. "She told me all about it to-day. Of course she ought not to have done it. I hope—I hope Sir Beverley wasn't angry about it."
Piers laughed a little. "Oh no! He got over it. Was Gracie scared?"