"By this time they have that fine, long letter we wrote them ten days ago. That was a nice little surprise for them, because they wouldn't expect us to write until we had heard from them. So we are one ahead on surprises."
"But Father s'prised us with the cablegram from Liverpool, Uncle."
"So he did. Well, we are quits at any rate."
After dinner, Mary proposed that they spend the evening before the fire in the sitting-room. The Doctor saw that Gene hesitated and asked kindly, "Won't you join us?"
"You see so little of each other, Doctor, that I think you should have this time together every evening."
"But we would like to have you with us, too, Gene," urged Mary.
"Perhaps I shall join you later, dearie. I really ought to write to my mother this evening. It will make her very happy to know that I have at last found a little sister."
During the week that followed, a busier little girl than Mary could scarcely have been found in New York City. So well did she work that she was able to finish not only two blotters, two calendars, the horse reins and the whisk broom holder, but also a little card for Tom, Aunt Mandy's grandson, whom Mr. Selwyn had taken with him to Italy. A whole evening was spent in carefully wrapping each gift in white tissue paper, tying it with bright ribbon, and sealing it in every possible place with heads of jolly old Santa Claus.
Among the many gifts which the Doctor had brought home during the week were the following: For Mr. Selwyn, a large, framed photograph of Mary, an enlarged copy of a kodak picture which he had taken of her after her parents had gone away; for his sister, a beautiful black lace mantilla which, as he explained to the little girl, her mother would wear on her head when she had an audience with the Pope; for the babies, tiny gold chains and miraculous medals. Nor had he forgotten Aunt Mandy and Tom. The table in the playroom was scarcely large enough to hold all the gay-looking packages; and they were just about to carry them down stairs to pack them in the strong, wooden box in the lower hall when who should appear in the doorway but the two servants—Liza with a big plum pudding decked with sprays of holly, and old Susie with an immense fruit cake.
"We 'lowed dey wouldn't see nuffin lak dis yeah obah yondah in dat savage land whah dey's done gone to, nohow, Massa Frank," chuckled the old cook. "What yo' spects dem Eyetalians knows 'bout fruit cake an' plum puddin', huh?"