“He isn’t an ogre, so now!” David protested. “He’s Santa Claus!” Just at that moment Mr. Lorens entered the dining-room. “What are the twins so excited about?” he inquired.
“They say that Mr. Dartmoor is coming up the drive,” Carol replied.
“You delivered the papers, did you not, daughter?” her father asked anxiously.
“Yes, Dad, I gave them to Mr. Dartmoor himself.”
Just then the bell rang, and Mr. Lorens, hoping that nothing had been wrong with the legal document which he had prepared with great care, went to open the door.
When greetings had been exchanged, Mr. Dartmoor asked if he might speak for one moment with Mr. and Mrs. Lorens.
Wondering what the conference was to be about, Mr. Lorens called his wife, and together they went into a small room which Peter had named his “Den.”
Carol, like the good little housekeeper that she was, finished cooking the supper and placed it in the warming-oven to wait the reappearance of her parents.
The twins, in the outer hall, watched the closed door curiously and tried to guess what their Santa Claus was talking about.
At last, to their great relief, the door opened and their mother beckoned to them. David darted in ahead of the others, but no one reproved his forgotten manners, instead, their parents were smiling as though some great good fortune had befallen them.