"It's time," said David.
"Takes more than a party to shake you out of your gravity," said Norton. "Time? why yes, it's past twelve."
"Sunday!" exclaimed Matilda.
The other three, they were together in the hall, all burst out laughing.
"It's Sunday; and Christmas is over, and the Christmas tree," said Norton. "But the fruits keep. Extraordinary tree! Well, Pink; we have got to go and sleep now. Do you want to take another look at the tree?"
They all went into the drawing-room which had been the scene of so much festivity. The tree stood there yet in its tub, with ribbands and gilt work hanging to it; but the lights were burnt out, and the splendour was gone, and its riches were scattered. It was a thing of the past already.
"The fruits will keep," Norton repeated. "Did you find out who the witch was, David?"
"I thought I knew."
"I knew I knew," said Norton; "but she had somebody else to speak for her. What a jolly witch! We shall hear from her some of these days. Well, good night."
Kisses and thanks and good nights had to be exchanged with the older members of the family; and Sunday was well begun when at last Matilda shut her door behind her. She had to take one look at her watch; it was no doubt a little beauty; and to Matilda's vision it was a very fruit and embodiment of fairyland. Beyond even her wildest dreams of what was possible from a Christmas tree. Her own watch! She could scarcely believe it, even with the watch lying securely in her hand. And with the delicate minute hand pointing but fifteen minutes off from one o' clock, she still stood gazing and rapt. Then as the hand went on to fourteen minutes, and thirteen, Matilda started and laid it down. To have her own watch telling her it was time to go to bed! But she must just look at Mrs. Bartholomew's present.