Margaret Howland, in the great easy chair, had already been moved into the room where the Christmas tree was waiting, and in a few minutes more the rest of the party had gathered there. It seemed to old Mr. Granville, as he sat in his comfortable corner near Margaret and watched Jacquette flitting about, seating the right ones together and making everyone comfortable and happy, that somebody else besides her Aunt Sula had inherited the knack of making a small place elastic. Nor were his the only pair of eyes that followed the gracious little hostess admiringly, for, while he was thinking it, practical Aunt Fanny was whispering to her husband’s sister,
“Sula, I may as well acknowledge that you knew what you were doing. Giving up her sorority hasn’t cost her one friend worth having, and she certainly is a picture of health. Besides, Malcolm heard something about her last night——”
“Ladies and gentlemen! Attention, please!” Uncle Mac’s jolly voice broke in just then. The distribution of gifts from the great, sparkling, glowing Christmas tree had begun, and the first one to be presented was a long, narrow package, labelled,
“Merry Christmas to the best grandfather in the world! Another gold-headed cane, to be used when I’m at school.
“Jacquette.”
“Another?” Marquis questioned, as he read the tag aloud. “I didn’t know you had the first one, Grandpa.”
But, though Jacquette’s loving eyes found her grandfather’s, and they two understood, there was no chance to explain to anyone else in the midst of the happy hubbub that was waxing louder with every minute.
Uncle Mac, as master of ceremonies, was making a new hit with each new presentation speech, and he kept Jacquette and Marquis so busy delivering presents to the others that Quis soon turned and asked Clarence Mullen to come and help them, winning a quick little glance of thankfulness from Jacquette as he did so.
There were no great sums of money represented in the surprises on that tree, but there never was more Christmas fun tied up in packages. For a steady hour the room was ringing with laughter, and, all the time, nobody seemed to care in the least that scarcely any two in the crowd knew what the next two were laughing about.
At the same time, behind the curtain of the noise, there were tender, quiet moments when eyes looked into eyes, and two people were glad that no one else knew. One of these was when Tia opened the locket Jacquette had given her, and saw her girl’s face laughing out; another was when Jacquette drew back into the shadow of the great tree to look at the little package which Uncle Mac had slipped into her hand.
It was labelled, “Your mother’s own girl,” and the tears sprang to her eyes when she found a beautiful miniature of her own mother at seventeen.