Christmas morning dawned cold and clear and crisp with a nipping eagerness in the atmosphere that brought the roses to the cheeks and warmed the hearts of the multitudes who made their abode on Manhattan Island. The spirit of the day seemed to take hold of everybody and manifested itself in the homes of the lowly as well as in those of the great. Herbert attended early morning Mass, and as he knelt before the crib of the Infant Saviour of the world, his heart swelled with a feeling of profound gratefulness for all the graces and favors that had been showered upon him. Nowhere did the meaning of the day seem more apparent than in the little apartment which had been occupied so long by Herbert Harkins and his friend Tomlin.
At ten o’clock that morning Tomlin turned to Herbert and said:
“See here, old man, if you don’t hurry to the railroad station you are likely to miss your mother.”
“Why, what’s the matter with you, Tomlin? You’re as nervous and fidgety as an old cat. The train doesn’t come in for an hour yet.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Tomlin in hurried tones. “But you can’t depend on these New York trains. They’re always ahead of time. Suppose your mother got in and was waiting there now.”
“Why,” exclaimed the other, with a skeptical look in his face, “I thought the trains were generally behind time.”
“No, no,” responded the other in his nervous, jerky way. “Ahead of time; ahead of time, always! But see here, don’t you stand there trying to get into an argument with me. You go and fetch your mother. She has never been in New York. Suppose she should start to come here herself and get lost—and lost on Christmas morning, too. Why, the idea is too terrible to contemplate.”
Herbert departed in a few minutes, much to the satisfaction of his friend. The understanding was that he should bring his mother to their little abode, and then after the arrangement of some preliminaries, that the three should go to a well known restaurant for their holiday dinner. The moment Herbert disappeared, however, there were strange doings in that neighborhood. Tomlin stepped to the front door and gave a low whistle. Immediately two men stepped from within the shadows of friendly doorways and joined him. One was Horace Coke and the other Noah Brooks, who had hurried up from Cleverly in order to join in the conspiracy that had been laid by Francis Tomlin.
“Now, boys!” shouted the youth to the two elderly men; “get down to work as soon as you can.”
And they did. A bag filled with holly and evergreen appeared as if by magic. Each of them grabbed a handful, and in an incredibly short space of time the doorways and windows and the gas fixtures were artistically draped. After this the little extension table was drawn out and filled with all the additional leaves that it would hold. Then a long tablecloth that had been engaged for the occasion was thrown over the table. It was as white and as pure as the driven snow, and even without any food was an incentive to good cheer. In the meantime a boy from a neighboring store appeared with eight or ten additional chairs, carrying them one at a time into the little apartment.