“What’s the row?” cries schoolboy Bertie, planting two good-natured, if somewhat grubby hands on his sister’s shoulders. “Alice in the dumps? That is something quite new. Can’t you cut some big candles in two and stick them about? Here’s Cousin Mildred—ask her. She’ll be sure to hit upon something.”
“No, don’t bother her,” whispers Alice, giving him a warning pat, as a pretty girl some years older than themselves enters the room. “She is so disappointed at getting no letter again to-day—I am so sorry, for it has quite spoiled her Christmas. Hush! don’t say I told you anything about it.”
“What mischief are you two children plotting?” Cousin Mildred tries to speak cheerily, and to turn her face so that they may not see any traces of tears about her pretty blue eyes, but there is a little quiver in her voice which betrays her.
In a moment Alice’s arm is round her neck and Bertie is consoling her after his rough and ready fashion.
“Cheer up, Cousin Milly! I’ll bet anything you’ll get a letter to-morrow.”
“I can’t do that, Bertie, I’m afraid, for the postman doesn’t come on Christmas Day.”
“Doesn’t he? What a beastly shame! I declare I’ll speak to Father”—
“No, no—your father knows all about it—it’s quite right, and I’m so glad the poor old man has one day to spend comfortably with his wife and children. I don’t quite know why Cecil has not written—but worrying about it won’t do any good. Now let us talk about something else. Alice, when you can be spared from the tree, Mother wants all the help she can get for the Church-dressing.”
“Is she down at the Church now? All right darling—I’ll come in two minutes. Isn’t it a plague about these candles? The shops are sure to be shut in Appleton the day after Christmas, and the poor children will be so disappointed if we have to put off the tree.”
“The poor, dear school-children! Oh, that is a pity. But candles—oh, dear! I don’t know how we can do without them. Is it quite impossible to send to Appleton to-day?”