Even Aunt Sarah Maltby heard the bells. She poked her head out of her room door in her nightcap and demanded:
“What’s all that? Those are the bells on the Christmas tree. What does it mean, Mrs. MacCall?”
The housekeeper was already up. She came out into the hall and sent the little folks back to bed.
“Whatever it is, human or sperrit, I’ll be goin’ by myself tae see,” she declared. “The night before Christmas is no time for you bairns to be out of your beds.”
“Do you s’pose it is Saint Nick?” asked Dot, in an awed tone.
“It may be,” said the housekeeper, descending the front stairs. “And if it is, he doesn’t want to see you. Go back to bed as I tell ye.”
CHAPTER VII—INTO TROPIC CLIMES
The tinkle of the bells on the Christmas tree was silvery in tone, and there was nothing about the sound to frighten even Dot. But it was mysterious, and Mrs. MacCall approached the door of the dining-room with some hesitation.
She had only recently left the room with the arrangements completed for Christmas morning when the youngsters should first run down to look at the present-laden tree, and exclaim in “Ohs!” and “Ahs!” at the sight.
She could imagine nothing that would cause the tree to sway and thus make the silvery bells tinkle. There was no window open which would create a draft and so wag the branches back and forth. What could be the cause of the bells’ ringing?