“Yes; I thought it was for some little chap in the family.”
“It was for her little kiddie-boy.”
Christmas morning was shining with the combined radiance of sun and snow.
“Merry Christmas, Phil!” Cathalina in negligee and slippers pounded on Phil’s door. Heavy breathing, somewhat exaggerated, greeted her.
“Merry Christmas, Hilary! O, I caught you! You couldn’t hear that old scamp at the end of the hall. I know he was awake, but you’ll see, he’ll come pounding on our door when he hears us talking in here,—and pretend that he never heard me at all.” Cathalina shook off her slippers and with the bulging stockings she settled herself by Hilary. “I left Phil’s by his door. He won’t care much, but he may pretend he does to please me.”
Etta appeared to light the gas in the grate. She laughed in response to their calls of “Merry Christmas”. Going to a drawer in the chiffonier, she drew out two fleecy wraps which she put around the excited girls.
“Now you take out one, Hilary, and then I’ll take one. I feel just like little ‘Catty Buskirk’ aged five. It’s just as well that we’re starting early, because you and I, and Phil, if we can get him to help, are to decorate the Christmas tree. Loads of things came in yesterday and I imagine more will come this morning.”
“For all ‘your sisters and your cousins and your aunts’?” asked Hilary, as she felt again of the knobs in the stocking and drew out first a rectangular package. “My, look at the yellow satin bow!” she cried, as she unwrapped a candy box accompanied by Philip’s card and the familiar inscription “Sweets to the sweet.”
“Phil brought home a great box of sweets that you will get later,” said Cathalina, accepting a bon-bon and starting to unwrap a similar package. “This is just like yours. Mother was pretending to whisk something out of sight that he gave her.”