To school girls there is something especially exhilarating about the Christmas holidays. The long stretch at the beginning of the school year has been accomplished. The glorious time of celebrations and gift giving is at hand, with all the mysteries and secrets of the season. Home people never seemed more desirable than after so many weeks of separation. Good times have been planned for the “long vacation,” as the two weeks at Christmas time are often called. A new year will have begun before the girls see each other again.

On Lakeview corridor they all were packing, running back and forth with different articles, talking, laughing, joking. “Give Reginald my love, Eloise,” said Lilian mischievously, looking over her shoulder as she started out of the room. “Reginald” was the fabled name of some mysterious admirer of Eloise, who lived in her home town. Numerous letters had arrived, addressed to Eloise in a bold, manly hand, and as she would not say a word about them or their source and seemed more annoyed than pleased upon the arrival of each missive, the other girls could not resist making an occasional teasing remark. “O, there’s a letter from Reginald,” one of the suite-mates would say, pointing to the mail upon the table. Or, “We’ve received no communication from Reginald for a week or two,—can he be ill?” another would remark in tones of concern. Eloise would sometimes part her lips as if to speak, but only smiled an amused smile and kept her own council. Possibly she confided in Helen, the girls thought, but if so, Helen never betrayed any knowledge.

“You are just crazy, you little old Lilian,” said Eloise on this occasion. “There isn’t any Reginald!”

“We know that. ‘Reginald’ is only the distinguished name we have chosen to represent the devoted knight. We ask no confidences, fair lady, at this stage, at least, and only hope that he may be a worthy knight.”

“Knight!” exclaimed Eloise. “Wait, Lilian, here’s my teeny-weeny Christmas present for you.” And Eloise handed Lilian a square, thin package marked “not to be opened till Christmas.”

Eloise and Lilian, as they stood together for a few moments, were such pretty examples of opposite types. Lilian so fair, like a china shepherdess, though vivid and full of life, and Eloise, dark-eyed, red-lipped and sparkling. Eloise had been embroidering pretty corners on linen handkerchiefs for her friends.

“O, you dear child,” said Lilian, “I’ll have to wait till I come back to give you my remembrance, but I know just what it will be.”

“I ’spect you know what this is,” said Eloise, “because you saw me doing one for Cathalina. But every little stitch was put in for you, with oodles of love!”

Isabel came into Lakeview Suite with the air of a conqueror and dropped into a corner of the window seat out of the way of packing and the general “mess,” as Hilary called it. “I’m all ready,” announced Isabel.

“Smart child,” said Hilary. “I have to get myself ready and finish packing my bag. I’m disappointed that Lilian has to go right home.”

“Virgie is finishing up. Avalon and Olivia have gone downstairs to wait for the ’bus.”

“Mercy! It’s an hour at least before it goes. Their train goes half an hour later than ours, too. They’ll have plenty of time to wait.”

“Anything I can do to help you girls?”

“No, I think not. Just excuse me while I get into traveling garb, and if you want to put those papers into the waste basket for us it will look ‘less worse’ around here, but it isn’t necessary.”

“I’ll have to do something or explode,” said Isabel. “I’m so crazy about going that I can’t keep still. It acts differently with Virgie, she’s going around in a dream, and she is such an intense soul that I’m afraid it will break out seriously later! Aren’t you afraid to take us, Hilary?”

“I should think not!” exclaimed Hilary much amused. “What time did you girls get up this morning that you are ready so early?”

“It was dark, and all I’ve had to do since breakfast was to pack my bag.”

“I barely got into my usual clothes by breakfast time,—it’s so hard to get up these dark mornings,—but I have certainly made things fly in this half hour since.”

“Are these your things laid our for your bag?”

“Yes, except one or two little things.”

Isabel packed the bag while Hilary dressed, telling her that she thought she was mistaken about the time when the ’bus would start. Hilary finished and ran around to say goodbye to the girls who did not start so early. With bright faces and gay farewells, the company of girls going on the morning trains clambered into the ’bus and were off to Greycliff and the station. Isabel settled down into the well-behaved, demure, little rosy-cheeked lass she was at her best and the trip began.

How proud Hilary was of the tall distinguished gentleman who met her and her guests and put them all into a taxi to be taken out to the parsonage. “O, Father, it seems ages since I’ve seen you all! Is Mother as well as she always writes that she is? and the boys? and Mary? and June? Lilian’s married sister came, so she went straight home.”

Isabel and Virginia scarcely knew whether to look with content and admiration at the minister and his daughter or to watch the lights of the city from the taxi windows, for it was late when the train pulled in. At last they reached the parsonage, where the whole family welcomed the girls with enthusiasm. Gordon and Tommy shook hands cordially and viewed the two guests with interest. Mary responded shyly to their greetings, June hugged them both, and Mrs. Lancaster gave both motherless girls a warm, motherly embrace. Hilary took them upstairs at once to the guest room. “This will be your room, unless some bishop or district superintendent comes unexpectedly, and then you will have June’s and mine.”

“And what will you do, then?”

“O, we’ll just hang up on the wall somewhere as usual, won’t we, June?”

June was afraid that Hilary’s remark would be taken seriously and said, “We can sleep on the davenport or up in the attic.”

Isabel and Virginia laughed and Isabel said, “You are very accommodating, then.”

“A minister’s family has to be,” replied June.

“You might call our family life ‘adjustable,’” suggested Hilary, “but we love to have company.”

“We have cots and things, too,” said the serious little June. “It’s very easy for us to manage.”

When the girls came downstairs, Mrs. Lancaster had a warm lunch for them and the whole family, even Dr. Lancaster, sat around and listened to the chatter about school and the doings of the Greycliffers. This was started by a remark of Dr. Lancaster’s to Isabel: “Yours is the school, I believe, where they have little incidents like wrecks and fires.” The girls all laughed at this and started in with more vivid descriptions than they had dared write home for fear of worrying the home people. There was not much that was funny about the wreck of the Greycliff, but the fire was different. June fairly doubled up with laughter, and Gordon and Tommy, too, at Isabel’s graphic accounts of faculty costumes, the array of slippers left in the snow, and the funny things that different girls did under excitement.

“Which was the girl, Hilary,” asked Tommy, “that you wrote about, the one that picked up her fountain pen from the table as she passed and left her pocketbook with a lot of money in it?”

“O, that was Dorothy Appleton,” said Hilary, “but we aren’t supposed to think of anything but getting out as quickly as possible. Of course it was rather thoughtless to pick up a pen and leave your money when it was right there by the pen.”

“We’ll take in a little of the city tomorrow,” said Hilary, as she escorted her guests to their room. “Mother has good help engaged and says that I am to have a good time with you. I haven’t been home enough since we came here to know the city myself yet and shall enjoy the sights as much as you will. Some of the time Father will go with us, or Gordon and Tommy. I think June knows her way around, too.”

The next morning, Dr. Lancaster offered himself as guide and took them all to the “Zoo” first, where they spent a good part of the morning. Although the birds and animals were in winter quarters, it was most interesting. The “Zoo-Eden” car again took them to the Rookwood Pottery, for which Cincinnati is famous, past the Art Museum, for which they wanted more time. The Pottery is a fascinating place and the girls viewed the beautiful specimens of its work, and watched the potter at his wheel while the different processes were explained by a guide.

By the time the round at the pottery was completed, it was time for lunch. “Down the dizzy incline, girls,” said Hilary, pointing to the Mt. Adams inclined plane near at hand.

“My, do we go down those tracks?” inquired Virginia.

“The street car goes on a big platform which is kept on the tracks and pulled up or let down by cables. It does look as if you are running out on the jumping off place! But they keep it in repair and folks don’t seem to think anything of it.”

June pointed out the river and the Kentucky towns on the other side as the car went down. “The bridge looks so pretty at night,” said she, “and all the lights of the town on the other side, as you look out.”

“Mercy, I do feel so citified,” whispered Virgie to Isabel, as they followed Hilary into the dining room of one of the large stores. “Is it only a few months ago that I was out on a North Dakota ranch and had never seen nor heard of you girls?”

“After lunch,” said Dr. Lancaster at the table, “I shall take you to the top of the Union Central building and then leave you to your own devices while I go down to the Methodist Book Concern on business. Do you think you can take the right car home, Hilary?”

“If she can’t, I can,” offered June.

“We’ll be all right, Father,” said Hilary. “We want to shop and look at the Christmas displays this afternoon.”

As the girls stood on the high lookout of the Union Central building, Hilary explained a little. “You see,” said she, “old Cincinnati was built in the ‘basin,’ as they call it, right down on the river, of course, for convenience in business. There was much river traffic in those days. But when the city grew and grew, naturally the residences began to be built out on the surrounding hills. Father, with his favorite alliteration, calls it ‘Cincinnati and her hundred hills.’ I love the down town spires. They give character and beauty to the whole place, Father says. O, I’m so glad that you are going to hear Father preach. He looks like the angel Gabriel and says the most wonderful things!”

“No wonder you are so nice, Hilary,” said Virginia, “with such a dear mother and the father you have,—not that you do not deserve some credit yourself!”

“I am very thankful,” said Hilary, “for my dear people, but I ought to be ever so much better than I am with the bringing up I’ve had!”

“Shall we go over into Kentucky some time?” asked Isabel, looking across at the Kentucky hills.

“O, yes,” replied Hilary. “We can do that tomorrow if you like, go over to Covington, or ride out to Fort Thomas, where there is the army post, you know.” Virginia began to count the number of states that she had been in on her trip from the farm, and concluded that it would be not only fun to see Kentucky towns, but would add a state to her list.

“Shopping next, girls,” said Hilary, as they went down in the elevator. “I’m not going to take you all over town, but into some of the big stores that are not very far apart, and then we’ll go somewhere for some good old sundaes and home again.”

“Isabel and I both need some good gloves, first of all,” said Virginia, “then just Christmas things, and something to remember Cincinnati by.”

In the days that followed so rapidly, there were certain great events that stood out in the life of the little girl from Dakota who had never seen nor heard anything like them. Through it all, too, ran the delightful feeling of being in a real home, with both a father and a mother, and a home built on the highest ideals.

There was the Symphony Orchestra concert, when she sat between Mrs. Lancaster and Hilary and watched the players with their instruments, many of them strange to her. Virginia thrilled to the harmonies and sat tense with enjoyment, not wanting to miss a note. She loved especially the harp and the violins, and in between the numbers asked Mrs. Lancaster about the wind instruments and the general make up of an orchestra, till Mrs. Lancaster realized that there were some things she had not thought of herself. The people, too, were of no less interest to Virginia, especially those who were much dressed for the occasion and sat in the boxes. It was a phase of life which the girl had read about but had never seen.

“Pinch me, Hilary,” she whispered once, after an especially beautiful and dreamy composition, “I must be dreaming, I can’t be really here with you, and actually hearing a Symphony Orchestra!”

Hilary smiled with sympathy and squeezed Virginia’s arm affectionately.

On Sunday morning, the girls sat with the minister’s family in the pew well up to the front, where father was sure to be supported by the confidence of his family! The church was beautifully decorated and the people sat in quiet reverence as the organ began its stately prelude. There was the exquisite Christmas choir music, especially prepared for the occasion, with one or two solos from the Messiah and “O, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!” The sweet Christmas story was in the Scripture lesson, and a sermon followed which more than once made Virginia’s throat contract with its tender and spiritual message. She thought of her dear father, working so hard on the distant ranch, and wished that she could slip her hand into his and tell him how dearly she loved him, and she concluded that she had expected too much from the stepmother who had never known anything like this to make her thoughtful and kind. With the rest of the congregation she sang, “When Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night,” and stood quietly to listen to the last note of the Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah with which the organist closed the musical program, the people standing, then bowed their heads for the benediction.

“And you’ve listened to sermons like that and been in wonderful services all your life, Hilary?” she asked, as they walked to the parsonage.

“Yes, and I suppose I can’t really appreciate it as I ought,” said Hilary, sensing what Virginia was thinking.

“I think you do, for you certainly put to practice what you have been taught,” said Isabel. “Still, part of it must be natural, because you just have a generous nature.”

“It’s very dear of you girls to think so,” said Hilary, not a little touched, “but if there is anything good in me at all it is just because I try to keep close to the Source of goodness, and I believe all that Father preaches, even if I can’t live up to it as I ought to.”

The good Sunday dinner brought them down to earth again, and how they did enjoy it! “These chickens came from Uncle Andy Short,” Tommy informed them, as he stowed away a generous slice of the breast.

“O, is he the one that sent or gave your mother the chickens that were in your famous birthday box last year?” asked Isabel of Hilary.

“Yes, and he’s sent us two turkeys for Christmas. He was so disappointed when Father went away, but he and his wife have promised to visit us,—”

“And, O boy, but we’ll have something good to eat when they do!” Tommy interrupted.

“Son!” but Dr. Lancaster smiled, as he gave the mild rebuke.

“They have everything on that farm,” said Gordon, “make the best butter, have bees and honey and apple butter,—it’s a great place to go!”

An Epworth League Christmas party gave Isabel and Virginia the opportunity to meet many of the young people in the church, and the Sunday school entertainment on Christmas Eve was the “dearest, funniest” program they ever heard! Isabel, the student of “expression” and drama, was convulsed over the recitations of some of the smallest tots. “It doesn’t make a bit of difference,” said she, “whether they do it right or not, and if they do forget, it’s only funnier. I’d like to eat up that cute little tot in the blue dress!”

Mary, with some other little girls, sang a Christmas song. Tommy and Gordon took part in several features of the program. Hilary found that she was not needed as much as she had been in the smaller place. Some one else played the accompaniments, and the program had been all arranged before she arrived on the scene. The girls were naturally interested in noting that there was a fine group of young men connected with the Epworth League and Sunday school. “I see where the ‘Campbell’ that Cathalina sometimes teases you about isn’t going to have a chance with these boys right here on the ground,” said Isabel. “My partner at the lunch the other night was a very good-looking boy, and I saw him casting several glances in your direction, Hilary.”

“I couldn’t notice his taking his eyes from you, could you, Virgie?” replied Hilary.

“He did seem to be having a jolly time with Isabel,” Virginia answered, “but I must say that I was too busy trying to think of things to say to my partner to notice much else. It was such a nice party!”

Christmas Day, that best-beloved, long anticipated day, arrived and brought much happiness to the Lancaster home, with greetings and gifts. The girls had been busy decorating the tree, which they enjoyed soon after breakfast. There were presents for the family, with remembrances for Isabel and Virginia. The door-bell kept ringing for a while, as it had the day before, and prettily wrapped packages kept coming in from different members of the church. Mrs. Lancaster was busy overseeing the cooking of the dinner where the most savory smells testified to the skill of the colored woman who was flying about the kitchen. One turkey had been roasted the day before, and the other was in the oven. Quite a little company was to gather for dinner at the parsonage, for some lonely folks without family had been invited in.

After dinner, Isabel, Virginia and Hilary played quiet games with the boys and Mary, while the older folks visited and the usual nibbling of nuts, fruit and candy went on between times. Later in the day other visitors dropped in and the young folks went out for a walk and ride. There seemed no end to the entertainment which the city could provide.

Isabel went home to her father and the boys after Christmas, but Virginia stayed with the Lancasters through the vacation, the happiest she had ever known, and came back to school with Hilary.