Marion was more than ready for anything so in keeping with the night, and gathering up some unused holly and a box of ornaments for the tree, they accompanied Mammy Belie to the small house, half a block distant on Pleasant Street.
It was a tiny place, quite simply and tastefully furnished, but betraying in many trifling ways the absence of the mistress. James Mandeville was fast asleep in his crib upstairs, where Mammy Belle conducted them to peep at him.
"I hope Miss Maimie won't mind our doing this," Norah whispered, as they went down again.
"I don't believe she will," Marion answered, moving about the tiny parlor, changing the position of a table here, a chair there, till the whole room had taken on a new look. The tree in the corner by the window bore melancholy witness to Mammy Belle's lack of ability in that line, but under Norah's fingers it began at once to revive.
They were in the midst of the dressing, Mammy Belle looking on in delight, when there was a ring at the door, and of all persons, who should it be but Mr. Goodman with a large package under his arm!
"It is a horse for that little rascal," he explained, puffing and embarrassed.
"Come in and see our tree, Mr. Goodman," called Norah.
The old man stood in the doorway. "I have been stumbling round trying to find this place for half an hour," he growled. "I took this thing to the shop, but you weren't there, and that Susan woman tried to direct me where to go."
"Ought you to go about by yourself at night?" Marion asked. "Won't you come in and wait for us? We are nearly through."
"And do look at this beautiful horse!" cried Norah, unwrapping a stately animal with flowing mane and tail. "Won't James Mandeville rejoice? Jack will be nowhere."