Christmas was near. The Hollisters wrote and invited Mr. Casey to spend the Christmas holidays with them. They also wrote Tom Harper to see if it were possible to bring Aunt Susan to be with them during the holidays. Tom replied he would make it possible. So they were to have a house full.
Nora and Ethel vied in dressing up the rooms tastefully with holly and mistletoe. Every chandelier and door had a piece of mistletoe fastened above it.
“What a grand kissing time there’ll be,” said Archibald. “When do we begin—on Christmas morning?”
“Now, Papa, don’t you get gay,” laughed Ethel. “You’ve led an exemplary life for fifty years. Please keep on and don’t let this mistletoe make of you a different man.”
Well—first came Mr. Casey. Every day he and Nora boarded a taxi and went shopping, returning with huge boxes and parcels which gradually filled Nora’s closets as well as under her bed.
Then came Tom and Aunt Susan, even looking younger than before.
“Really it’s ridiculous, Aunt Susan,” said Ethel, “for you to keep growing so much younger and more stylish. You’ve got to stop.”
And the bell rang so often that Mrs. Hollister was obliged to hire an extra maid for Christmas week. Everyone was so perfectly happy that it was a joy to enter the house. Harvey was there as often as his hospital practice would admit of, and he was the first to kiss Aunt Susan under the mistletoe; and Aunt Susan, if you please, now appeared in the daintiest of gowns—up-to-date and rather youthful. Ethel and Grandmother laughed over it.
“Why, Grandmother, how old is Aunt Susan?”
“She’s about sixty-one,” said her sister—“why?”