“I suppose that Christmas Eve is really the time for Christmas trees,” said Cathalina, as she straightened a candle on the tree and hung another silver ball where it would show to the best advantage. “But everybody wants to be in his own home then, and anyway Cousin John couldn’t get in until late last night and Uncle Mart was to get in this noon. He’s been South on business.”

The family dinner was to be early on account of the smaller fry. At five o’clock darkness had fallen, the Van Buskirk home was aglow from every window and the family waiting. The tree was in what Hilary called the back parlor, separated from the room at the front by pillars and draperies. As Cathalina flitted about the tree looking like a sweet Christmas fairy, Hilary sat almost lost in a great chair, enjoying the beauty of the tree and of the warm, spacious room with its fine pictures and tasteful appointments.

“There!” cried Cathalina at last, and pressing the electric button left the room dark, except for such light as came in from other well lighted rooms. “They’ll all come at once,” continued Cathalina, perching on the arm of Hilary’s chair.

“How can the children wait all day for their presents?”

“O, they have most of them at home, but they do look forward to the big family tree. I used to be crazy about the time when I would see Santa Claus. O, isn’t it fine, Hilary, to have you here and everybody coming! Katy never gave me a look when I peeped into the kitchen a while ago. She was bossing the whole crew,—wouldn’t hear to the caterer Mother had suggested to the housekeeper. And we’re lucky to have her and her good homey cooking. Some of Mother’s friends have such times. Mrs. Utley has millions of money, but when her littlest kiddie had been out with his nurse and exposed to small pox, the whole set left and she had to get along by herself a while. If you knew her you would understand how funny it was. I have forgotten how long they were quarantined, but nobody was sick.—O, there they come!” Cathalina rose and spun around on her slippered toes, her light dress floating around her. Hilary rose, too, in some inward excitement, and shook out the lines of her prettiest “party frock”, which was quite as nice as Cathalina’s; for Mrs. Van Buskirk had not changed her ideas in regard to simplicity for young girls.

Watts in his most elegant style was admitting the guests whose merry voices drew the girls to the hall. Young laughter, little Charlotte’s shrill treble, Uncle Knickerbocker’s kind bass tones, the cheery greetings and “Merry Christmases” of old and young soon filled the house with cheer. Several of the children could not resist the shining bannisters and slid down triumphantly before their elders could stop them. The company rapidly increased in a truly informal gathering where common interests and affection made everything natural and spontaneous.

Hilary watched it all with fascinated eyes in the intervals of being presented, though she little dreamed how closely her life was to be connected with this family group. Having met many people in her few years, she noted the correct speech, intelligent faces and general air of content and ease. Philip Van Buskirk was the only man of large wealth among them, but most of the family connection were in comfortable circumstances, accustomed to the atmosphere of education and culture. With Aunt Knickerbocker, Hilary quite fell in love. That lady, as usual, wore soft black silk with white lace. A faint odor of violets always clung to any possession of Katherine Knickerbocker’s,—her gloves, or scarf, and tonight she wore the flowers themselves. She held Hilary’s hand, looking at her with kind, shrewd eyes and a pleasant smile. Her chin was lifted, her head tipped a little sidewise, as she welcomed Hilary. Then with a low laugh and a quick little movement she gathered Hilary close to her side, and keeping an arm around her, drew her along to meet some of the rest.

“Charlotte, this is the fine girl that rooms with Cathalina at Greycliff. Miss Randolph has written many complimentary things about her. Hilary, this is Mrs. Stuart, Cathalina’s aunt. Come here, Sara Stuart, I want you to meet Cathalina’s friend. Introduce her, please, to Emily and Campbell.”

Thus Hilary was passed around or waited till the young people were brought to her. From the oldest, who was Uncle Knickerbocker with snow-white hair, to wee “Sh’lotte Mee-nia”, they all took Hilary into their hearts and made her one of them. She was greatly interested, of course, in John Van Ness and his sweetheart, Juliet King. This was Juliet’s first visit with the family since the engagement was announced.

“Isn’t she lovely?” whispered Cathalina, “not exactly pretty, either, but so—charming. Look at John; he can’t keep his eyes away from her.”

When dinner was announced, Philip Van Buskirk escorted Aunt Katherine, while Uncle Knickerbocker, gallantly and with much joking, tucked Sylvia’s hand in his arm. Among the youngsters, Philip Junior took out Hilary, which made her feel very grand and grown up.

The dining room was ablaze with light, reflected in the glittering cut glass and shining silver. Two long tables were decked in Christmas trimmings. Here, as in the other rooms, poinsettias, holly and mistletoe were in evidence and lovely cut flowers gave fragrance. Watts was in his element and the pretty maids wore sprigs of holly in their caps.

There was a slight disturbance when little Charlotte found that she had been expected to sit by her mother instead of with the younger generation at their table. But at Sylvia’s nod, Watts whisked the high-chair to the other table, next to Charlotte’s sister.

With bowed heads they listened to Uncle Knickerbocker’s long grace. Louise was somewhat inattentive because of various wigglings on the part of her small charge; and Will was guilty of a suppressed giggle as out of one eye he watched Charlotte’s attempts to speak and Louise with her finger on the child’s lips. Her shrill voice piped out as soon as the blessing was asked: “But I don’t see any turkey!” A general ripple of amusement went round; then the hum of conversation began.

Philip sat at one end of the children’s table, Cathalina at the other. “The whole tribe is here, isn’t it?” asked Campbell Stuart, a tall, good-looking young fellow who sat between Hilary and Ann Maria. “Can you get the hang of our relatives yet, Miss Hilary?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s really very simple, as our Trig professor says,” Campbell continued. “Now that they are together at table it would be a good time to get a fine general idea of the various groups. (I quote again, from our distinguished history professor!) Let us start in on the other table.” Campbell straightened his shoulders and made an appropriate gesture.

“That’s old Peppy Brown to perfection,” said Phil, “but nixy on the family history, please.”

“It will only take a minute, Phil, brace up. Of course you know Aunt and Uncle Knickerbocker. Then that gentleman with the very black hair, on the other side of Aunt Sylvia, is Martin Van Buskirk. He is a good scout and you’ll like him. He’s named for the Martin Van Buskirk who came over from Holland, fought in the Revolutionary war and married Maria Van Ness. Uncle Mart says he does not know which took the most courage,—with no reflection on his bride intended. Uncle Mart’s a bachelor himself.

“Next to him is my mother, and right opposite is Father with Aunt Adaline Wallace, another of Uncle Phil’s five sisters.”

Hilary gasped and laughed.

“Now we’ll pick them out,” Campbell went on. In schoolboy style he entertained Hilary for some minutes with his lively description of uncles, aunts and cousins on both sides of the house.

“Do they all live in New York?” inquired Hilary.

“No, but near, except Aunt Lois. She’s teaching in Virginia. We live in Brooklyn this winter, but are going out to stay at Cousin Lib’s tonight after the fun. You know Father is related to her too, so we’re all double cousins.”

“Mercy, Campbell!” exclaimed Louise Van Ness. “You are getting Hilary more mixed than ever. Forget it, Hilary. Do tell us, Campbell, or Philip, how it happened that your famous old team lost that last game!”

No more effectual means could have been devised for changing the subject. Both boys eagerly began to explain how it happened, by a series of unlooked for accidents, together with the unfairness of the referee that the football team had been defeated!

“It couldn’t have been, of course,” whispered Sara to Ann Maria, “that the other team played a better game! Aren’t boys funny!”

Will and Nan were keeping the fun going at the other end of the table and were ably assisted by Charles and Henry Wallace, two polite but irrepressible lads who had been promised all the turkey they could eat if they would behave like gentlemen at Uncle Philip’s. Any resentment at reproof which they may have felt they were taking out in an excess of polite behaviour, especially to each other, with droll remarks which kept Cathalina convulsed with laughter most of the time.

After the dinner came the tree. Hilary had helped decorate, but did not realize how like fairyland the place would look, with the candles lit and the little electric bulbs shining among the branches. No other lights were on in the room, that the big tree might stand out in all its glory. Some of the branches were frosted with a sparkling dust, and hung by invisible wires from above, a Christmas angel spread white wings. For a moment, every one was silent. Even little Charlotte drew a sigh of rapture. “Peace on earth,” murmured Aunt Katherine.

Then Charlotte ran up to the tree. “I see my dollie!” she cried, lifting baby hands and arms to the big doll which she knew must be hers.

“And here’s old Santa Claus!” said Ann Maria, calling Charlotte’s attention to young Philip, much padded, with long white beard and great fur overcoat. Exclamations of delight greeted the gifts, always especially nice at Aunt Sylvia’s; for she took the opportunity to remember generously a few of the young people not quite so abundantly provided for as Philip, and Cathalina, and, indeed, tried in every way to find out the real heart’s desire of each.

Hilary found herself with an armful of presents, several books for which she had been longing, a dainty scarf which was one of the pretty things picked up on Sylvia’s last trip abroad, a flashlight, a traveling case, a dozen fine handkerchiefs, some stationery and candy. She turned to Mr. Van Buskirk and said earnestly, “O, how can I accept all these lovely presents when I’ve given next to nothing to you!”

Philip Senior placed his hands lightly over her shoulders: “Hilary, child, you have done more already for my little girl in lessons of self-reliance and devotion to work than these baubles and trifles could ever do for you.” And Hilary was comforted.

“Clear the floor for the Virginia reel!” called Philip. Methodist Hilary looked up startled. “Don’t worry, Hilary,” said the amused Cathalina, who was standing near. “It is not a real dance—that is, no more than the gym dances. This is a family custom,—once a year, and Sir Roger De Coverly, well, they prance around like this,” and Cathalina held one hand high as if reaching toward an imaginary partner, and minced about in a rhythmic walk.

Uncle Knickerbocker was approaching Madame Sylvia with what Hilary called “gym steps and variations”. Aunt Knickerbocker with a sweeping courtesy was greeting Uncle Martin, who reached her just before Philip Senior. “Never mind, Philip; it’s fine to be popular,—and Martin is always such fun,—no offense, Philip?”

“None whatever, Madam,” replied her host, his hand on his heart, “though I envy Martin!”

“Twas ever thus,” sighed Martin Van Buskirk, “valued not so much for my handsome face as for my ready tongue!”

“Your ready heels, my lad!” returned Aunt Katherine, as he led her out.

“Look at ’em!” said Cathalina, poking Hilary. “You’d think Father was a boy tonight.”

Hilary shook with laughter at the jokes and the exaggerated old-time manners assumed for the occasion as the elders took their places. The younger children preferred to play with their toys, but the rest lined up in the double line. Cathalina played for them this time,—an old-fashioned tune that set Hilary’s feet to tapping. Campbell, tall, handsome lad, came up and asked her to be his partner. Hilary imitated the low curtseys of the rest to match his bow, saying, “I wish I could, Campbell, but I’d be sure to get mixed up and spoil it all. Isn’t it pretty?”

Campbell drew up an easy chair by Hilary’s and stretched out lazily. “I’m quite contented to sit here by you. I guess Uncle Knickerbocker couldn’t have eaten the turkey I did. Look at the fancy steps he is putting in. I bet he’ll be lame tomorrow!”

“He’s such a fine old gentleman,” said Hilary, warmly, “handsome yet.”

“O, he was some beau in his time,” replied Campbell, who enjoyed watching Hilary’s expressive face more than the maneuvers upon the floor.

One turn of the old-fashioned dance was enough for the elders, who scattered, laughing and breathless, to drop into convenient chairs and watch the graceful figures of John and Juliet, Louise, Ann Maria and the rest until they too were tired and gathered around the piano for more quiet enjoyment. The singing of fresh young voices, the gay or tender songs, as one or another called for some favorite, and last the trying of some new records, brought the family party to a contented and happy close. Nurses and maids were off duty, and when it was discovered that Charlotte was asleep on the floor with her precious doll, the last of several which she had received that day, it was thought high time for departure. Several out-of-town people remained over night with the Van Buskirks; others went with Mr. and Mrs. Van Ness, and the rest pursued their different ways home.