Joseph spent the days immediately preceding Christmas in decorating the house. He bought paperchains, and festooned them across the ceilings; he pricked himself grievously in countless attempts to fix sprigs of holly over all the pictures; and he hung up bunches of mistletoe at all strategic points. He was engaged on this work when Mathilda Clare arrived. As she entered the house, he was erecting an infirm stepladder in the middle of the hall, preparatory to securing a bunch of mistletoe to the chandelier.
"Tilda, my dear!" he exclaimed, letting the step-ladder fall with a crash, and hurrying to meet this first arrival. "Well, well, well, well!"
"Hallo, Joe!" returned Miss Clare. "Yule-tide-and-allthat?"
Joseph beamed, and said: "Ah, I catch you at a disadvantage! See!" He held up the mistletoe over her head, and embraced her.
"Cave-man," said Mathilda, submitting.
Joseph laughed delightedly, and, slipping a hand in her arm, led her into the library, where Nathaniel was reading the paper. "Look what the fairies have brought us, Nat!" he said.
Nathaniel looked up over his spectacles, and said in somewhat discouraging accents: "Oh, it's you, is it? How are you? Glad to see you."
"Well, that's something, anyway," said Mathilda, shaking hands with him. "Thanks for letting me come, by the way."
"I suppose you want something," said Nathaniel, but with a twinkle.
"Not a thing," replied Mathilda, lighting a cigarette. "Only Sarah's sister has broken her leg, and Mrs. Jones can't oblige."