CHAPTER VII—“GOD REST YE, MERRIE GENTLEMEN”
There was a whisper in the corridor, a patter of softly shod feet upon the stair.
Even Uncle Rufus had not as yet arisen, and it was as black as pitch outside the Corner House windows.
The old dog, Tom Jonah, rose, yawning, from his rug before the kitchen range, walked sedately to the swinging door of the butler’s pantry, and put his nose against it. The whispering and pattering of feet was in the front hall, but Tom Jonah’s old ears were sharp.
The sounds came nearer. Tess and Dot were coming down to see what Santa Claus had left them. Old Tom Jonah whined, put both paws to the door, and slipped through. He bounded through the second swinging door into the dining room just as the two smallest Corner House girls, with their candle, entered from the hall.
“Oh, Tom Jonah!” cried Tess.
“Merry Christmas, Tom Jonah!” shouted Dot, skipping over to the chimney-place. Then she squealed: “Oh-ee! He did come, Tess! Santa Claus has been here!”
“Well,” sighed Tess, thankfully, “it’s lucky Tom Jonah didn’t bite him.”
Dot hurried to move a chair up to the hearth, and climbed upon it to reach her stocking. The tree was in the shadow now, and the children did not note the packages tied to its branches.
Dot unhooked her own and her sister’s stockings and then jumped down, a bulky and “knobby” hose under each arm.