“It’s a Christmas surprise for you,” said Aunt Sula as Mrs. Howland led a much-bundled little figure into the hall.
“It’s Margaret! It’s Margaret! Oh, how beautiful!” Jacquette cried, on tip-toe with joy as she tried to unwind the veils and shawls that Margaret’s anxious mother had wrapped her in. “I never dreamed the doctor would let you come out at night. I didn’t think you were strong enough, yet. O-o-oh, Margaret!” she broke off, as she actually found her friend at last, inside all the muffling. “You look like a doll! Your eyes are so big—and that short curly hair—you darling! Oh, why can’t we all look as sweet as that, and go to parties in pink wrappers!”
“There! Let her go,” Aunt Sula interposed. They were all laughing, but the tears were near the surface, for each one was remembering that Margaret had been close to the gate of death in the long hard weeks just past. “We’ll put her in this easy-chair and have her mother stand guard over her. The doctor said we might keep her for an hour or two if we’d be very careful of her.”
“Will he mind my hugging her every few minutes?” Jacquette asked, anxiously. “I’m so glad—so glad you’re here, Margaret!” she whispered, making sure of one more hug, on the instant. “The evening couldn’t have been perfect without you.”
There was no need for Margaret to answer in words, even if she could have found a chance. Her happiness was shining in her face, while her mother and Aunt Sula and Jacquette, generaled by old Mr. Granville, all bustled about, lining the deep chair with pillows, and tucking the little convalescent in among them. When she was seated, they spread a thick, fleecy white shawl over her knees, like a laprobe.
“There! But we won’t cover up her pretty pink slippers,” Jacquette declared, slipping a hassock under Margaret’s feet. “At least we must let the toes peep out—so!—or I know she won’t have a bit good time!”
“Jack, you tease!” Margaret protested, but she gave a contented little ripple of laughter as she leaned back among the pillows. “Hark!” she added. “Isn’t that your Uncle Mac’s voice?”
Jacquette flew out into the hall to see, and, from that minute the bell kept ringing, until the rooms were filled with happy, laughing, chattering people. The atmosphere seemed charged with secrets and surprises that were in danger of going off at any instant, and Jacquette’s eyes grew bigger and brighter and darker with every guest she greeted.
At last a peculiar series of rings brought her dancing downstairs from the room where she had just left a bevy of girls, removing their wraps.
“That’s Quis! I know his ring!” she cried, as she came. “I must be there to open the door this time, Mollie.”