"I do wish, though, we knew who he is, don't you?" Mary asked. "I'd just like to thank him."
"I fancy Mr. X is not the sort that covets thanks," her mother replied. "Some people take their pleasure in doing a kind deed. I imagine Louise's Mr. X is one of that sort."
So they talked on, until suddenly glancing out of the window, Mrs. McGregor exclaimed in consternation, "Why, it is snowing!"
Sure enough! A thick smother of flakes whirled down into the deserted streets and cutting short Grandfather Harling's story, the visitors bundled themselves into their wraps.
"I hope the children won't take cold," said Mrs. Harling anxiously.
"Take cold? Mercy, no! They are tough as nuts, every soul of them," answered their mother. "Having no automobiles they gain it in their health. Poverty has its blessings—I'll say that! Now, Carl, you hold onto Nell and don't let her down on all fours; she is such a fat little blunderbuss! And Mary, keep Martin in the path if you can, or he will lose that huge rubber boot. Uncle Frederick is going to wheel the baby. And remember, Tim, there are to be no snowballs or snow down anybody's neck. You will have plenty of time for that sort of fun to-morrow, if you call it fun. And, children, do try to go down the stairs quietly. Don't forget there are other people on earth besides yourselves. A Merry Christmas, everybody!"
"And three cheers for Mr. X!" Hal added boyishly.
"Hal Harling, don't you dare set this brood of mine cheering in the hallway! They'll raise the roof," ejaculated Mrs. McGregor, putting up a warning finger. "Not but what I'd gladly cheer the person who sent those dinners; but we mustn't do it here."
"Well, it was a jim-dandy dinner, anyway," chuckled Hal. "We'll be eating that turkey for days. It was big as an ostrich!"
"Maybe you drew an ostrich by mistake," grinned Carl. "Who knows?"