Hilma jerked her head toward the window.
"Oh, you mean in town? Why can't you go?"
"I work. And never before am I from home Christmas day."
Betty shivered. "Never before am I from home Christmas day," she whispered.
She went close to the girl, very tall and slim and bright beside the dumpy, flaxen Hilma.
"What work do you do?"
"The cook, he cooks the dinner and the supper; I put it on and wait it on the young ladies and wash the dishes. The others all are gone."
Betty laughed suddenly. "Hilma, go put on your best clothes, quick, and go down to your party. I'm going to do your work."
Hilma's eyes rounded with amazement. "The cook, he be mad."
"No, he won't. He won't care whether it's Hilma or Betty, if things get done all right. I know how to wait on table and wash dishes. There's no housekeeper here to object. Run along, Hilma; be back by nine o'clock—and—Merry Christmas!"