THE next day was a busy one. In the morning the gardener brought in a load of evergreens; and while Aunt Dora and the maids prepared the long table in the dining-room, and superintended Davis the coachman as he carried all the drawing-room furniture into the study and the hall, with the help of the gardener’s boy, so as to leave the room clear to dance in, the children set to work and transformed the hall into a perfect bower.

They twisted ivy round the balusters and polished oak stair-rails, and hung it in festoons over the sides of the gallery which ran round three sides of the house. They framed the pictures with glistening holly and scarlet berries, and crowned the great marble statue in the hall with a crown of mistletoe.

It was a very tired and grubby little party who gathered round the dinner-table, which to-day was set in the servants’ hall; but Aunt Dora’s pleased appreciation of their efforts made up for all the trouble; and after a quiet hour spent in the schoolroom over story-books they were quite fresh again at three o’clock, when Mary came up to help Claude to dress, and brush Isobel’s hair for her and tie her sash.

‘I wish we had Etons,’ said Vivian to his brother when they were alone in their own room, turning over his summer suit of dark-green cloth with rather a dissatisfied air. ‘I was in Ralph’s room washing my hands before dinner, and he has a proper suit, with gray trousers and a short coat with a peak at the back, just like those Charlie Strangeways had last summer.’

‘That’s because he’s at school,’ said Ronald, who was splashing away vigorously at the washhand-stand. ‘Probably a lot of the fellows will have Etons on; I know they wear them in London a lot. But I think these green suits of ours are rather nice; besides, it doesn’t matter what boys wear, and mother has promised to get us Etons for next summer. I say, won’t Isobel look a duck in that stunning white frock, with that pale-blue sash? I hope Dorothy will grow up as pretty as she is.’

‘Isobel is just perfect,’ said Vivian emphatically. ‘I hope Aunt Dora will let her come down to us again in spring for the Easter holidays; she will make the Strangeways look astonished. They were not at home the last time she came. They always laugh at girls, but they won’t laugh at her when they see how she plays cricket. She is not like the Lister girls, who daren’t catch a ball in case it hurts their fingers. I only wish Ralph were like her,’ he added, going back to the vexed question of clothes. ‘You should have seen his face when I told him that we had only our last year’s summer suits to wear. He muttered something about “country cousins,” and offered to lend me his last year’s suit. It is too little for him, but he said it would just do for me.’

‘And I hope you snubbed him well for his impudence. I tell you what, Vivi, he is our cousin, and we must be civil to him because of Aunt Dora and Uncle Walter and Claude and Isobel; but he is a cad, an out-and-out cad, with his airs and his conceit. So don’t let me find you copying him, or I’ll give you a good licking. Wear his old clothes indeed! You had better try it.’

Ronald spoke so sharply that Vivian, who had had a sneaking hope in his heart that his brother would agree to Ralph’s proposal, dropped the subject hastily, and began to scramble into the despised green suit in a very great hurry, feeling a little ashamed of himself as he did so for despising the clothes which his mother had chosen for him, and of which, until his conversation with Ralph, he had been not a little proud.

He quite forgot his momentary vexation, however, when Isobel, a slim little white fairy, with soft blue ribbons, knocked at the door to see if he were ready to go down and practise the minuet which he had promised to dance with her.

Mrs Armitage had made a point of having her boys taught to dance, for she always maintained that it taught them to hold themselves well, and hindered them from looking as if they did not know what to do with their arms and legs when they came into a room full of strangers. Vivian especially danced exceedingly nicely for a boy of his age, and later on, as Isobel and he went through the stately measures, bowing and curtsying to each other in the middle of the great drawing-room with its brilliant lights, they made such a pretty picture that there was quite a burst of applause from the grown-ups, who had come to look after the little ones and share the fun.

‘You did that splendidly, old fellow,’ whispered Ronald, with real brotherly pride, when the performance was over, and Vivian came up to the corner where he was standing along with some of the bigger boys. ‘I shall write and tell mother that you have taken all the ladies’ hearts by storm. I heard that old dame with the eye-glasses, who is standing next Aunt Dora, ask, “Who that exceedingly nice-looking boy is?”’

‘Fudge!’ said Vivian, laughing; but he was pleased all the same, for he felt that he had shown Ralph that even a ‘country cousin’ could do some things better than he could, in spite of the fact that he did not wear an Eton suit.

The event of the evening was the Christmas tree, and there was a breathless silence as all the children gathered in the drawing-room, and were arranged in rows, the little ones in front, before the drawn curtain which separated the two rooms.

There were mysterious whisperings going on behind the curtain, and stifled laughter; but at last the bell rang, and the lights were turned down, and in another moment the curtain flew back, and there stood the tree, blazing with coloured candles and laden with presents.

An old man, with snow-white hair and a long beard, stood beside it, wearing a white cloak which sparkled as if it were covered with hoar-frost. ‘Father Christmas!’ shouted all the children at once. ‘Three cheers for Father Christmas!’ while Claude, who, in his eagerness, had crawled very near the green tub in which the Christmas tree was planted, cried out in a tone of surprise, ‘Oh, it’s father; I know his boots.’

A roar of laughter greeted this discovery.

‘Hush, Claude,’ said his mother, catching the little fellow by his belt and swinging him back to his place beside the others. ‘Take care, or Santa Claus will have no present for you. He only brings them for the children who sit still in their places.’

Then Father Christmas held up his hand for silence, and made a little speech, telling them how glad he was to see them all, and how he hoped that they were enjoying themselves, and that they would all be good children in the year that was coming; then he took up a long white wand, with a hook at the end of it, and began to take down the presents from the tree and call out the names which were printed on them.

It seemed as if Aunt Dora must be a witch, for she had thought of just the right thing for every one. For the tiny tots there were woolly bears, and rabbits, and long-haired dolls; while for older children there were clever mechanical toys, useful glove-boxes and hand-bags, and prettily bound books. Ralph had his microscope, and Claude his man-of-war, while Ronald, who was fond of all country pursuits, hugged two beautifully bound volumes of British Birds in silent delight.

‘I see two Brownie kodaks; I do wish one of them would come to me,’ said Robin Earlison, a boy of about Vivian’s age, who was sitting next him. ‘I don’t want to be greedy; but I do want one badly, if only I could have the luck to get it. What do you want?’ he went on, trying to look as if he did not care when one of the coveted kodaks went to Pierce Dumot, a delicate-looking boy with a slight limp, who was sitting at the other end of the row. ‘But I expect you know what you are to get, for you are staying in the house, aren’t you?’

Vivian scarcely heard him. His eye had fallen on a toy pistol which was hanging on one of the lower branches. It was not quite so large as those which the Strangeways boys had got, but what joy it would be if it fell to his lot! He held his breath and sat very still as one after another of the children went up to get their presents. Seven, six, five—there were only four things left on the tree now—the other kodak, the pistol, a bright blue book, and a box of soldiers.

He felt hot all over with the suspense. The soldiers could not be for him, he was too big for them, so that left only three things. Now Santa Claus was unfastening the kodak. Ah, it was Robin’s name that was called, so Robin had got his heart’s desire; and now there only remained the blue book and the pistol.

He was so intent listening for the next name he forgot to rise and let Robin pass to his seat, and Robin, noting the strained look on his eager face, hoped that he was not disappointed because he had not got the kodak.

Now Father Christmas had the pistol in his hand, and was turning it over seeking for the name. Would he never find it? Vivian felt angry at the noise that the other boys, who had already received their presents, were making. But his suspense did not last long. In another moment his name was called out, and the wished-for toy was in his hand.

He turned it over and over in delight, examining every part of it, while some of the other boys stretched over the seats to admire it. Evidently a toy pistol was a coveted possession.

‘It’s not a very big one,’ said one lad, with rather a mean desire to depreciate a present which he had wished for, but which had not fallen to his lot.

‘All the better,’ said Ronald, who had left his seat and come round to see what his brother had got. ‘Father would not have let him use it if it had been bigger.’

‘It will shoot very well, all the same,’ broke in the good-natured Robin, relieved to find that it was not the kodak that his companion had been longing for. ‘My cousin had one like that, and he could shoot sparrows with it. He found it very useful in the spring, when they tried to eat up all the seeds that he had sown in the garden.’

‘Vivian Armitage. No, it is not for him. It is for Vivian Gray, who isn’t here. This book is for Vivi.’

It was Aunt Dora’s voice, and she looked over the boys’ clustering heads as she spoke. ‘No, Vivi dear, that is not for you,’ she said, stretching out her hand. ‘You are rather a little chap for that. I am afraid that mother would not thank me if I sent you home with such a dangerous toy. This book is for you; I think you will like it. It is one of Henty’s. Claude got it for a birthday present a year ago, and he was quite delighted with it.’

Poor Vivian! he handed back the pistol and took the book instead with the best grace he could; but it was a bitter disappointment, and Aunt Dora’s kind heart was troubled as she saw how his face fell, and with what difficulty he winked back the tears which were perilously near filling his eyes.

‘It serves me right,’ she thought, ‘for having such a thing on the tree, only I knew that Mr Gray had no objection to Vivian having it, and it took my fancy when I was buying the presents. I must try to remember to ask Jack if he would mind if I give Vivi one on his next birthday; he will be a year older then, and more careful.’

Thinking that a change of occupation would be the best thing to divert the little boy’s thoughts, she wrapped up the pistol with its accompanying box of caps, and calling Basil Gray, Vivian’s younger brother, she gave it to him, asking him to take it home, and give it to Vivian, who was in bed with a chill; then she proposed a game of charades, choosing Vivi for one of the actors; and as she saw his face brighten as he ran upstairs with the others to dress, she hoped that the disappointment was only temporary, and that by the next morning he would have forgotten all about it.