The Judge and his grandson did not talk much that night. The Judge slowly sipped his glass of hot milk and then went to bed. He lived a quiet life, and the adventure of the evening had given him many problems to think over.
Titus was quite excited. Ordinarily the approach of Christmas Day did not stir him very much, but now that there was another young person in the house he felt his pulse quickened. This strange boy must have some presents. Should he give him some of his new ones, or would old ones be sufficient? He would consult his grandfather about it. He had a lot of old toys up in the attic. To-morrow morning he would ask Higby to get them down, or, better still, he would take the youngster up there. Poor little chap—how mean to make him work, and with some hitherto unknown generous impulses animating his sturdy young breast Titus fell asleep.
He was late for breakfast the next morning. His grandfather had already had prayers, the servants had scattered to their various employments, and Higby was just taking in a second supply of coffee to the dining room.
“B-b-beg pardon, grandfather,” said Titus, hurrying in after the man. “I-I-I fell asleep again after Higby knocked at my door. M-merry Christmas and many of them!” and seating himself at the table he looked around in great approbation.
The long handsome room was flooded with sunlight.
“G-g-good old sun,” ejaculated Titus, approvingly. “I-I-I can dress better when he shines on me. I-I-I hate the dark, early part of the morning. W-where’s the child, sir?”
The Judge looked toward the door. Higby was just throwing it open for Mrs. Blodgett and her charge.
Then an amusing scene took place. In the doorway stood Mrs. Blodgett, and a pale, pretty little girl dressed in a dainty white cloth dress trimmed with gold braid.
The Judge and Titus looked at Mrs. Blodgett. They both knew that she possessed a little granddaughter of whom she was inordinately proud. This child sometimes came to the house, and she often presented her to the Judge for a word or a kind glance.
Just now he gave both—“A merry Christmas, little one. Come here and get an orange. Mrs. Blodgett, how is the boy this morning?”