He found it so. The six people in the gable corner proved to be of the younger boys and girls, and, though they were all eyes and ears for himself and Roberta, he had a sufficient sense of being paired off with the person he wanted to keep him contented. They ate and drank merrily enough, and the food upon his plate seemed to Richard the best he had ever tasted at an affair of the kind.
The evening was gone before he knew it. He could secure no more dances with Roberta, but he had one with Ruth, during which he made up for his silence with her sister by exchanging every comment possible during their exhilarating occupation. He began it himself:
"It's a real sorrow to me, Miss Ruth, to be warned that this party is nearly over."
"Is it, Mr. Kendrick? It would be to me if to-morrow weren't Christmas Day. It's worth having this stop to get to that. You see, to-night we hang up our stockings."
"Good heavens, Miss Ruth—where? Not in front of any one chimney?"
"No, each in our own room, at the foot of the bed. The things that won't go into the stockings are on the breakfast-table."
"I'll think of you when I'm waking to my solitary dressing. I never hung up my stocking in my life."
"You haven't!" Ruth's tone was all dismay. "But you must have had heaps of Christmas presents?"
"Oh, yes, I've a friend or two who present me with all sorts of interesting articles I seldom find a use for. And when I was a little chap I remember they always had a tree for me."
"I don't care much for trees," Ruth confided. "I like them better in shop windows than I do at home. But to hang up your stocking and then find it all stuffed and knobby in the morning, with always something perfectly delightful in the toe for the very last! Oh, I love it!"