The stars were coming out before the first person turned away, and all through the night watchers of the tree's resplendent glory were found by the patrolling policeman gazing, gazing, with thoughts of peace reflected on faces that had long been unknown to peace.
It was after six when the Emerson car whirled the U. S. C. back to the Mortons' for a dinner that had to be eaten hastily, for they were due at the Glen Point orphanage soon after seven so that all might be in order for the doors to be opened to the children at half past. Helen was always urging punctuality as Tom was commanding promptness.
"If we were small youngsters and had had to wait all day for our Christmas party we'd be wild at having it delayed a minute longer than necessary," the President insisted, and Tom added his usual exhortation, "Run the thing along briskly; don't let it drag. You can 'put over' lots of stupid stuff by rushing it on gayly, and a good 'stunt' may be good for nothing if it goes slowly."
"Helen and Tom can't say that they 'never sing the old, old songs,' can they?" laughed Ethel Brown. "The Club has never done anything yet that we haven't heard these same sweet strains from both of them."
"You're very likely to hear them again—my chant, any way," declared her sister firmly.
"It won't do us any harm," Ethel Brown yielded good-naturedly.
The boys had made the good ship Jason with some ingenuity. The matron had let them have a table, long and so old that the marks of boots upon it would do no harm. This was important for it was to be used as the forward deck. Because in the days of its youth it had been used in the dining room of the smaller children it was lower than an ordinary table. This made it just the right height, for the ship's rail was to rise above it, and if it had been higher the people on the floor could not have seen the deck comfortably.
At the end of the table was tied the mast—a broom stick with electric light wires strung with tiny bulbs going from its top to the deck. This electrical display was a contribution from Roger who had asked his grandfather to give it to him for his Christmas gift and had requested that he might have it in time for him to lend it to the Jason. It was run by a storage battery hidden in a box that was safely bestowed under the deck. Aft of the mainmast were two kitchen chairs placed side by side to give the craft the needed length.
The outside of the boat was made by stretching a double length of war-gray cambric from the bow—two hammock stretchers fastened to the end of the table—along the deck, past the chairs and across their end. The cloth was raised a trifle above the deck by laths nailed on to the edge of the table. The name, "Jason," in black letters, was pinned along the bow.
"It isn't a striking likeness of a boat," confessed Roger, "but any intelligent person would be able to guess what it was meant to be."