"Oh, you rogue, you rogue! You know very well who came and kissed me good-night; and you put her up to it!"
The Doctor tried to look surprised. "I put whom up to it?"
"Oho! don't try to pretend you don't know, sir! Your eyes are twinkling, and so are Aunt Mary's. But I caught her right around the neck when she leaned over; for I wasn't sound asleep, and I heard her beads rattle."
"But what was Aunt Mary doing up at the very late hour of ten o'clock? Don't you know that in convents the rule is, 'Early to bed, early to rise'?"
"But p'r'aps it wasn't quite ten o'clock, Uncle. No, no, I have caught you both this time!"
[1] The decree of Pope Pius X., concerning the First Communion of little children, had not at this time been issued.
CHAPTER V.
CHRISTMAS.
Mary never forgot that Midnight Mass. The beautiful altar decked with countless lights and masses of crimson roses; the kind, old, white-haired priest; the incense, the music, the wonderful Crib, which she could see from where she knelt beside her uncle in one of the front pews—all made her wish that her father and mother were there, too. After the two morning Masses, the children rushed to the recreation room for a peep at their gifts before breakfast. The great tree at the far end of the room first caught their eyes. It was bright with colored lights, and was turning slowly around in the metal box in which it stood, and from which came forth the sweet tones of the Adeste, Holy Night, and other Christmas hymns. The branches of the tree bent low with the weight of gifts and goodies.