“No doubt of it, Colonel,” I answered. “That same friend told me that he hadn’t enjoyed anything so much for years as Mr. Klutchem’s visit to his office that morning.”
“Well, I am so glad,” said Aunt Nancy—“so glad!” The “friend’s” name had been too obviously concealed by both the Colonel and myself for her to press any inquiries in that direction. “And you have not seen the daughter?” she continued.
“No, Mr. Klutchem was ill at a friend’s house when I called on him once befo’, and his family were not in the room. I shall have that pleasure for the first time when she arrives.”
Chad now entered, bowed low to his Mistress, his invariable custom, and began to light the candles on the mantelpiece and sideboard, and then those in the two big silver candlesticks which decorated each end of the table, with its covers for six. Little Jim still stood behind his Miss Nancy’s chair: he was not to be trusted with any of Chad’s important duties.
There came a knock at the door.
“That’s dear Fitz,” said the Colonel. “He promised to come early.”
Chad looked meaningly at the scrap, and little Jim, in answer to the sound of Fitz’s knuckles, left the room, picking up his “pan” from the hall table as he answered the summons.
At this moment the dear lady dropped her ball of yarn, and the Colonel and I stooped down to recover it. This was a duty from which even Chad was relieved when either of us was present. While we were both on our knees groping around the legs of the sideboard, the door opened softly, and a sweet, low voice said:
“Please, I’m Katy Klutchem, and I’ve come to the Christmas tree.”
The Colonel twisted his head quickly.