A girl stood in the doorway that led into the dining-room adjoining—a curious-looking girl in a gingham apron and cap. Lylda looked up.
"Oh, Eena, please will you say to Oteo we want the tree from the wood-shed—in the dining-room."
The little maid hesitated. Her mistress smiled and added a few words in foreign tongue. The girl disappeared.
"Every window gets a holly wreath," the Doctor said. "They're in a box outside in the wood-shed."
"Look what I've got," said the Big Business Man, and produced from his pocket a little folded object which he opened triumphantly into a long serpent of filigree red paper on a string with little red and green paper bells hanging from it. "Across the doorway," he added, waving his hand.
A moment after there came a stamping of feet on the porch outside, and then the banging of an outer door. A young man and girl burst into the room, kicking the snow from their feet and laughing. The youth carried two pairs of ice-skates slung over his shoulder; as he entered the room he flung them clattering to the floor.
The girl, even at first glance, was extraordinarily pretty. She was small and very slender of build. She wore stout high-laced tan shoes, a heavy woollen skirt that fell to her shoe-tops and a short, belted coat, with a high collar buttoned tight about her throat. She was covered now with snow. Her face and the locks of hair that strayed from under her knitted cap were soaking wet.
"He threw me down," she appealed to the others.
"I didn't—she fell."
"You did; into the snow you threw me—off the road." She laughed. "But I am learning to skate."