"You would most likely drag it out with your handkerchief and lose it. What would you do then? You leave your thimble at home with father, and I will lend you my muff, to keep your hands warm—if you will promise to take great care of it."
"Oh, I'll be ever so careful," promised Margery eagerly, for one of the ambitions of her life was to have a muff to carry. Bella had a little old-fashioned black one that had belonged to her mother, and Margery yearned for the time when she too should have one.
They were all pleased with their presents, even Aunt Emma. "Well, I did want an apron," she said, as she turned it over and examined it. "It might have been a trifle longer, but it looks a nice one." This from Aunt Emma was wonderful praise. "I must go and see about the dinner now, and, Bella, it is time to get ready for church; you'll see that they are all clean and tidy, won't you?"
"Yes," promised Bella; and when presently they all started on their walk no one could have found fault with their appearance, not even Aunt Emma.
The snowflakes had ceased falling now, the sun was shining brilliantly, but a keen little breeze was rustling the dead leaves still clinging to the bushes, and nipping the noses and fingers of those who faced it. Across the fields sounded the peals of the church bells, and along the roads and lanes came little groups of people stepping out briskly in the frosty air. Every one had a greeting for every one, and almost every face bore a brighter, more friendly look than usual.
The service, with its hymns so heartily sung, was cheerful too, particularly the part that the children loved so much, when carols were sung in place of a sermon. This was a treat they would not have missed for a good deal. They all waited eagerly for their own especial favourites, and when the choir broke out with—
"Once in royal David's city
Stood a lowly cattle shed."
"Once in royal David's city
Stood a lowly cattle shed."
Margery looked up at Bella triumphantly. She had her favourite, at any rate, so her anxiety was over.
Charlie's favourite was, 'God rest you, merry gentlemen,' but he was doomed to disappointment that day; and Tom did not get his—