The full moon shone down with his broadest smile on the group of young people who occupied Mrs. Gray's roomy, old-fashioned veranda.

"We're here because we're here," caroled Hippy Wingate, balancing himself on the edge of the porch rail, both arms outspread to show how successfully he could sit on the narrow railing without support.

"You won't be 'here' very long," cautioned Miriam Nesbit. "You are likely to land in that rose bush just below you. It's a very thorny one, too. I know, because I tried to pull a rose from it only a little while ago. Remember, I have warned you."

"Don't worry over me, Miriam," declared Hippy airily, pretending to lose his balance and recovering himself with an exaggerated jerk.

"Oh, I am not worrying," retorted Miriam. "If you fall backward into that rose bush it won't hurt me."

"Did I say it would, my child?" asked Hippy serenely.

"Don't answer him, Miriam," advised Nora. "He is like Tennyson's 'Brooklet,' he goes on forever."

"How peaceful and quiet it was in Oakdale until yesterday," was Hippy's sorrowful comment. "'Gone are the days when my heart was light and gay,' etc."

"It will be not merely a case of bygone days, but bygone Hippy as well," threatened David. "Reddy and I intend to defend our friends against your personal attacks."

"I wasn't personal," beamed Hippy. "I didn't say anything about any one. I merely observed that since yesterday Oakdale had become a howling wilderness——"

Hippy did not stop to finish his speech, but, nimbly dodging David and Reddy Brooks, who rose from the porch, determination written on their faces, bounded down the steps and disappeared around the corner of the house.

"He is the same Hippy who made life merry for us eight years ago when we were high school freshmen," smiled Grace. "He hasn't changed in the least."

"None of my Christmas children have changed," was Mrs. Gray's fond retort.

"Neither has our fairy godmother," reminded Anne.

"I never feel grown up or responsible when we all gather home," said Jessica.

"And yet Tom is on his first vacation from work, David and Reddy are rising young business men, and Hippy is studying law," reminded Grace.

"Yes, but I don't like it," remarked a plaintive voice, as a fat face appeared around the corner of the porch. "I want to be a brakeman."

It was impossible not to laugh at Hippy, and, encouraged by the merriment, he cautiously climbed the steps of the porch and returned to his precarious perch upon the railing.

he warbled, rocking backward and forward in time to his song.

"Why don't you go down to the railroad yard and put in your application, then?" was Reddy's stolid advice. "If I intended to be a brakeman I wouldn't study law."

"Alas! I am obliged to obey the wishes of my cruel parents," whined Hippy. "I am seriously contemplating wrapping a few little things in a handkerchief and leaving home forever. I remember once when I was very young and unsophisticated I decided upon this step. I was deeply incensed with Father because he had punished me for playing truant from school. I went upstairs to my room and packed three neckties, a boxing glove, two books, a baseball and a picture of myself in baseball clothes in a suit case. I carried the bat, and as a last precaution I took a toy pistol and my bank, which boasted of sixty-four cents. I started at about eight o'clock in the evening and went as far as the summer house at the lower end of our grounds. I sat down to rest, went to sleep and woke up about two o'clock in the morning. Then I discovered that I was afraid of the dark and didn't dare go even as far as the house. I crept into the summer house and stayed there until morning; then I went home, suit case and all. I managed to get into the house before any one else was up, but I decided there were worse places than home. However, if the brakeman aspiration proves too strong I may be obliged to leave home again. After all, it may be my vocation."

"Hippy Wingate, when will you be sensible?" asked Nora O'Malley.

"Never, I am afraid. You see, my associations tend to make me foolish. Birds of a feather, you know, and when one's intimate friends——" Hippy paused. "You understand I don't like to say that you in particular are responsible, but——"

"I'll never forgive you for that," declared Nora.

"Then that means that our engagement——"

Hippy was not allowed to finish. A shout went up from the others, and he and Nora were surrounded.

"Hippy, how could you?" The pink in Nora's cheeks deepened, but she did not deny his statement.

"Nora, come here," commanded Mrs. Gray.

Nora obeyed with a shyness entirely foreign to her. Putting her finger under Nora's rounded chin, Mrs. Gray looked smilingly into the piquant face. Then she drew the girl within her circling arm and kissed her. Grace, Miriam, Anne and Jessica followed suit.

"Now it is your turn, Jessica and Reddy," said Nora pointedly.

Jessica's pale face grew scarlet. She looked appealingly toward Reddy, who sat beside her, then they rose and, taking her hand in his, Reddy said with a world of affection in his voice, "Jessica has promised to marry me in the fall." Jessica and Reddy were immediately surrounded.

"Will surprises never cease?" exclaimed Grace, regarding her betrothed friends with loving eyes. "Now I begin to believe that we have really grown up."

"You haven't," retorted Tom Gray in a low tone which Grace alone heard.

"Give me a year or two in which to do my work, and perhaps I will," said Grace softly.

"Do you really mean that, Grace?" asked Tom eagerly.

"I think I do, Tom," hesitated Grace, "but I can't promise you what you wish, yet."

"By the low, significant tones over in Grace's corner I imagine another engagement is about to be announced," remarked Hippy, grinning broadly. All eyes were immediately turned upon Grace and Tom.

Grace met their gaze with a shake of her head. "No," she said, "Tom and I are not even engaged. I must be free to go back to Overton next year to do my work there. I must look after my house for one year at least."

Tom's face clouded, but he said no more. David, too, was strangely silent. Anne had accepted an engagement to tour America with Everett Southard in Shakespearean roles the next season. Miss Southard was to accompany them on the tour. Still, David had the satisfaction of knowing that Anne loved him and that some day she would be his wife, although, like Grace, she would neither bind herself by a promise nor allow him to place his ring upon her finger.

A little silence followed the announcement of the engagement of part of Mrs. Gray's Christmas children. Hippy had resumed his position on the railing, while Nora had slipped to the seat beside Grace, her hand in that of her friend. The little company of young people realized, to a person, that for them life was taking on a strange and earnest meaning, while Mrs. Gray, in spite of this garland of youth with which she delighted to beautify her latter days, felt very, very old.

Suddenly the silence was rudely broken. Hippy, who was more embarrassed than he cared to indicate, leaned too far back and lost his balance. There was a horrified gasp, a pair of stout legs waved in the air, and Theophilus Hippopotamus Wingate, as he invariably styled himself, fulfilled Miriam's prediction to the letter, and crashed ignominiously into the prickly arms of the big rose bush.

"There is no use in trying to be retrospective while Hippy is with us," declared Mrs. Gray when their mirth had subsided and Hippy had clambered to his feet. A long scratch ornamented one fat cheek and his hands showed the result of his fall among thorns. But his smile was as wide as ever.

"Poor Hippy," sympathized Miriam. "I'm so sorry."

"Then stop laughing," retorted Hippy.

"Yes, I'm sorry—for the rosebush," jeered Reddy.

Those who have learned to look upon Grace Harlowe and her companions as friends of old standing will meet her again in the near future. In "Grace Harlowe's Return to Overton Campus" they will find her at Harlowe House and learn just how successfully she carried on her chosen work.

The End.