Now began the Christmas adorning of the little pine tree. Such beautiful things as were hung upon it, and folded about it, and festooned around it!
“How charming to be a pine!” murmured the little tree, with its head among the frescoed cherubs on the ceiling.
“Where are you, Mabel Eliot? Light up the burners now,” commanded Ely from the top of a step-ladder.
Ely crept out from under the green baize around the foot of the pine tree, two pins in her mouth, a crimson smoking-cap on her dishevelled head, and a pair of large-flowered toilet slippers drawn over her hands.
“I crawled in behind there to see if there mightn’t be a place somewhere for these,” explained Ely, hastening for the torch, and proceeding to light up.
The pine tree now saw itself reflected in the great mirror opposite, and echoed the “splendid” of the three girls, who clapped their hands at the gorgeous effect. Then the lights were put out. The silver key was turned in the door again, and the girls went away, leaving the pine tree in darkness indeed.
The four small Eliots, after pinning up their stockings by the chimney, seated themselves in their night-gowns on the hearth-rug, and talked over St. Nicholas before they got into bed. Each agreed to wake the others if he “should just but catch Santa Claus coming down the chimney.”
Chrissy, squinting up his eyes till nothing but two little lines of black lashes were visible, was sure “he should catch him; O, yes, he should.”
So they all climbed sleepily into bed, pinning their faith on Chrissy.
The night darkened and deepened, the stars moving on in a grand procession. Somewhere about midnight St. Nicholas was off on his ride, galloping over the roof-tops, and knocking at every chimney-top that had a knocker, just getting through at day dawn with the deal he had to do. The “eight tiny reindeer” had barely trotted him out of sight, when thousands of little children in thousands of homes began hopping out of bed to look in their stockings.