Aunt Lucinda was playing Christmas carols; it seemed to Blue Bonnet, listening in her big chair by one of the long windows, that the air had been full of carols all day. At church in the morning, at Sunday school in the afternoon; and later, as she and Grandmother made their rounds in the big, old-fashioned sleigh, carrying Christmas cheer to more than one home, the very bells had seemed to be singing a carol of their own.

The little bank had been emptied of its contents the morning before, considerably more coming out than Blue Bonnet herself had put in, though she had been faithful in those weekly contributions; and she and Uncle Cliff had spent a delightful hour in a little toyshop, rather off the main stream of traffic—chosen because it was little and looked sort of lonely and forlorn, whose proprietor had been most sincere in his urgent request that they should call again.

That long day in Boston,—with the blessed knowledge at the back of one’s mind that one had “passed,” and that school was done with for ten whole days; with the wind nipping one’s fingertips and reddening one’s cheeks; with the stores reminding one of the fairy-land, and the streets almost as gay and wonderful as the stores; with Uncle Cliff declaring that Christmas only came once a year, and that this was the first time they had ever had a chance to go shopping together properly,—had been a day not soon to be forgotten.

And then the making up of the baskets in the evening! Grandmother insisted that one sleigh would never carry them all.

“Every part of Christmas seems the nicest,” Blue Bonnet had sighed, happily, filling a bag with nuts and raisins for the small Pattersons, and almost envying Luella Patterson the brown-eyed, brown-haired doll lying smiling up at her from its box.

Nor had this “between-time” Sunday lacked its own particular charm. “It gives one a little chance to get one’s breath,” Blue Bonnet confided to Solomon, curled up in the chair beside her, “Though it hasn’t been what one would call precisely an idle day! But I’ve got everything ready—think of that, Solomon! All the home things packed away in the closet, and after supper, Uncle Cliff and I are going to take Alec’s and the ‘We are Seven’ theirs. Think what a lot of presents I’ve had to wrap up and write on!”

Solomon wriggled appreciatively; there was something for him,—he had been told so. While out in the hall stood a big, travel-stained box, object of Solomon’s liveliest curiosity. It had arrived the day before from Texas.

“Don’t you want to come sing this, Blue Bonnet?” Aunt Lucinda asked; and as Blue Bonnet came to the piano, she struck the opening chords of Mrs. Clyde’s favorite carol: “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

Blue Bonnet sang it all, looking out to where above the familiar street the silent stars went by, and trying to picture to herself the little hillside town of Bethlehem, resting in its quiet sleep.

The girl’s clear voice sounded softly through the quiet parlor, with its trimmings of evergreen and holly, carrying two of her listeners back to more than one Christmas Eve in the past.

All in all, Christmas Eve was almost as nice as Christmas itself, Blue Bonnet decided that night, sitting on the hearth-rug before the fire in her own room. Then her face grew suddenly wistful. It was not so many years ago that her mother had sat on this same hearth-rug, thinking of the joys to come on the morrow, while the clock on the mantel ticked away the moments bringing the great day of days nearer and nearer.

Solomon was the first to give her Christmas greeting the next morning, choosing Christmas for his first venture above stairs before breakfast; aided and abetted therein by Delia. Sure, and the child should have somebody to talk to on Christmas morning—and Solomon was wiser than a deal of humans.

He received warm welcome; Blue Bonnet was sitting up in bed, a little square, pasteboard box in her hand. “I found it under my pillow,” she told the ever-curious Solomon. “Now how did Grandmother smuggle it in without my knowing it?”

She slipped the slender gold band with its one deep, dark blue stone on her finger. “Isn’t it pretty, Solomon?”

And it was with the brightest of Christmas faces that Blue Bonnet came down to breakfast half an hour later. No one was in the dining-room, but the table stood ready, a true Christmas table, with its shining silver and bowl of crimson roses; its pile of presents at each place; overflowing, in Blue Bonnet’s case, from table to floor.

“Please!”—Blue Bonnet went to the door—“Won’t everybody hurry! I don’t think I can wait much longer!” “So hungry as all that, Honey?” her uncle laughed, coming in from his morning constitutional on the veranda. “Merry Christmas!”

“You were in very good time this morning, my dear!” Miss Lucinda laughed, when the various Christmas greetings had been exchanged and they all sat down to breakfast.

“Wasn’t I?” Blue Bonnet’s fingers were busy with ribbon and paper. There were furs from Uncle Cliff, books, ribbons, and neckwear from Grandmother, skates and the prettiest fur skating-cap from Aunt Lucinda, books from the “Boston relatives,” remembrances from Alec and each of the girls, from Katie and Delia, a new collar for Solomon from Denham. There were any number of odd little trifles such as girls love, which Mr. Ashe had picked up for her in New York; there was a box of chocolates big enough to promise the entire club much enjoyment; and under her napkin—when at least she had calmed down enough to remember to unfold it, was a slip of paper which told that “Darrel’s mare” was Darrel’s no longer but belonged to the owner of the Blue Bonnet Ranch.

By that time, Blue Bonnet had quite given up trying to put her delight and gratitude into words, but her shining eyes said it very plainly to the three watching her.

“How did everybody know exactly what I wanted, when I hadn’t begun to think of half so many lovely things myself?” she said.

As for Blue Bonnet, she and Uncle Cliff had put their heads together to very good purpose. Grandmother, whose pet hobby was fine china, openly rejoiced over the delicate beauty of the tea-set filling the box at her place; while Aunt Lucinda—who was a true music lover—bent delightedly over the lives of her favorite musicians, in their soft, rich bindings.

For Uncle Cliff, Blue Bonnet had gone to Grandmother for advice; and the girl’s laughing, happy face looking out at him from the purple velvet miniature case pleased him as nothing else could have done.

“It won’t be quite like going back without you now, Honey,” he told her.

After breakfast, came the unpacking of the Texas box; a box with something in it for everyone; bright-colored Mexican serapes, some of Benita’s fine drawn work—at sight of which Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda exclaimed delightedly; there were jars of highly spiced Mexican conserves, which Blue Bonnet rejoiced over; a tin box of Lisa’s best pinochie; and down at the bottom were eight wonderfully fringed and trimmed Mexican saddle blankets—one for each of the “We are Seven’s” and Alec, and there was even a cleverly-wrought leather leash for Solomon. “Isn’t it the nicest Christmas!” Blue Bonnet cried, her lap full of treasures. “There’s Alec! I’ll give him his blanket right away! I reckon he’s come to take me skating—I sha’n’t have to borrow skates now.”

“But dear,” Mrs. Clyde laid a detaining hand on her arm, “there will not be time for skating before church.”

“Are we going to church—on Christmas?” Blue Bonnet looked rather blank.

“Isn’t that the time of all others to go, dear; to return thanks for the greatest Gift of all—on His own day?”

Blue Bonnet’s eyes deepened. “I’ll be ready on time,” she promised, and ran to welcome Alec.

“Oh, I say!” he cried, as she gave him his saddle blanket, “how uncommonly jolly in them to remember me! And I’ve come to say thank you for something else, too.”

“Alec, are you going to church?” Blue Bonnet asked, as they went out to the dining-room to examine the skates and other presents.

He nodded. “But we can go skating after dinner—the pond’s in fine condition. Boyd’s coming too—between us we’ll get you taught in no time.”

It was a typical New England winter’s day, all white and blue; even in the sun, it was necessary to move pretty briskly if one wanted to keep warm.

The broad village street was alive with people; the bells were ringing for the Christmas service; on every side one had cheery Christmas greetings. Blue Bonnet, a knot of holly pinned to her dark furs, looked up at her uncle with eager face. “Isn’t it all like being part of a Christmas card scene—the crystallized kind?”

“So it is,” he agreed.

“After Texas, I believe I love Massachusetts,” Blue Bonnet decided. “There go Ruth and Susy—it must be nice having a sister almost one’s own age on Christmas. Oh, me, I can’t help hoping Mr. Blake won’t preach very long.”

But Mr. Blake was under the spell of the day, quite like other people. It was hardly a sermon at all he gave them, just a simple Christmas talk starting with the message of peace and good-will brought down by the angels at that first far-off Christmas-tide.

Blue Bonnet listening to it, her eyes turning, as they always did in church, to the memorial window beyond, with the winter sunshine shining through its rich coloring, wondered if her mother and father knew how very happy she was to-day? Knew, too, of the new thoughts and resolves stirring within her. Every Christmas all her life should find someone the richer, happier, for her being here in this world—that, at least, she was determined on; not just the home people and friends.

And after church, surrounded by the other six club members, each insisting that she come with them and see their things, Blue Bonnet could hardly keep from dancing from very happiness.

They compromised at last; the seven would adjourn to the parsonage, that being the nearest point; after dinner they would all meet at the pond, and from the pond they would go to Blue Bonnet’s.

“Think of it!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed. “The mare’s my very own! I’m going to name her Chula! I thought of it in—church!”

“What else have you been thinking about—in church?” Kitty demanded.

“Oh, any amount of things—Christmas things! Wasn’t it dear of Uncle Cliff?”

“You shouldn’t have him all the time for an uncle,” Debby protested. “It isn’t a fair division.”

The sitting-room at the parsonage told plainly what day of the year it was. Five small Blakes, ranging from twelve to three, swooped joyously down upon the newcomers.

“What did you get?” resounded on every side, broken by excited exclamations of admiration and sympathy.

“I am glad Aunt Lucinda thought of my skates!” Blue Bonnet rejoiced. “We’ll go every afternoon, won’t we?—while the ice holds.”

“I’ll have to go now—not skating,” Debby said, and at that the party broke up.

There was to be only a home dinner that day, at the usual time, in order to give Delia and Katie their Christmas holiday; so Blue Bonnet was waiting when the boys came for her.

Boyd Trent, though several months younger than his cousin, was taller and stronger looking in every way than Alec. Blue Bonnet wondered, as the three went down the path and out at the back gate, why she felt so sure that she should never really like him.

He certainly gave her no cause for complaint that afternoon; between him and Alec, she got on very well.

“You’ll get there,” Boyd assured her. “Let go, Alec—she mustn’t have too much help.”

“Like it?” Kitty asked, coming up.

“I love it!” Blue Bonnet declared.

“How many tumbles so far?”

“Did you think we would let her fall?” Boyd asked.

“She doesn’t always wait to be let—before doing things,” Kitty answered, “particularly, in school.”

“But you see we prevented any desire,” Alec explained.

“Let’s see you try it alone?” Kitty urged, and Blue Bonnet took a few not too unsteady steps.

The wide pond was crowded with skaters; they made a pretty sight, darting about, the girls in their bright coats and caps, the boys in bright sweaters. Not until the west was all aglow and the wind sweeping down from the hills too keen and nipping, did the “We are Seven’s” and their especial friends turn their faces homewards.

At the Clyde gate the club members turned in, slipping in at the side door and straight on up to Blue Bonnet’s room. She had spread most of her gifts out on her bed, trying to realize them that way.

“But I can’t—yet,” she said now. “I wonder if anyone ever felt as rich as I do.”

“Not everyone has such cause,” Debby answered. All of the others had fared well; but, as Kitty put it, it almost seemed as if Blue Bonnet had fared too well for her own good. “You haven’t anything left to want for,” she insisted.

“I don’t want Uncle Cliff to go West.”

“Nor do we,” Ruth laughed.

“Let’s talk about the party,” Amanda suggested; for Blue Bonnet’s party was to be on Thursday night. “Who’s coming, Blue Bonnet?”

“You all:—”

“I should rather think so,” Kitty remarked.

“And Alec and his cousin, and a lot of the other boys and girls. Some of them I don’t know very well.”

“It’ll be a real big party, won’t it?” Susy rejoiced. “Mother says that when she was a girl she liked the parties here better than any she went to. She has one of her old party dresses still.”

“I wonder,” Amanda said, as the six were on their way home, “what Blue Bonnet’s going to wear Thursday night?”

“It won’t be anything fussy,” Debby remarked. “Miss Clyde doesn’t approve of fussy things for girls.”

“She is quite right,” Sarah said; “young people shouldn’t—”

“Couldn’t you let it go at that, please!” Kitty interposed.

“Kitty! Besides, you don’t know what I was going to say!”

“Oh, yes, we do, Sallykins!” It was the final straw, and Kitty knew it, calling Sarah Sallykins.

“If I were Blue Bonnet,” Debby interposed, “I’d have all the pretty clothes I wanted.”

“I daresay she has,” Ruth laughed; “she has all she needs, at any rate—and they’re always pretty.”

“Then, Debby,” Amanda objected, “you wouldn’t be Blue Bonnet! One of the nicest things about Blue Bonnet Ashe is the way she never seems to realize how much she could have, nor to want it.”

Debby still looked unconvinced; but then Debby was the youngest of several sisters, and her mother had a talent for “making over.” “Please, Grandmother!” Blue Bonnet came to a standstill in the center of her grandmother’s room, “Aunt Lucinda said for me to come show myself. Do I look—partified?”

Mrs. Clyde turned from her dressing-table to glance with pleased eyes at the speaker. Blue Bonnet was all in white from head to foot, save for the spray of crimson holly berries in her brown hair. “You look,” Grandmother said slowly, “very happy; and you are dressed as I like to see a school girl dressed—simply and becomingly.”

Blue Bonnet swung her fan by its slender chain,—they had been Alec’s Christmas present; “Aunt Lucinda wasn’t taking any chances to-night; she didn’t send Delia.”

Grandmother smiled. “This party is in honor of ‘Miss Elizabeth Blue Bonnet Ashe,’ not ‘SeÑorita.’”

“And I’m on time! Grandmother, you look lovely!” Blue Bonnet’s eyes sparkled. “Just as I like to see—a grandmother dressed.”

“And now, having exchanged compliments, shall we go down?” Mrs. Clyde asked.

In the hall below, they found Mr. Ashe waiting.

“Well! well!” he said, as Blue Bonnet swept him a courtesy, “I wish Uncle Joe and the folks back there could see you, Honey!”

“Come and have a turn before anyone gets here!” Blue Bonnet begged, as from the back parlor came the strains of old “Uncle Tim’s” fiddle. “Uncle Tim” and his grandson “Young Tim” were Woodford’s standbys in affairs of this sort. No one could play dance music like old black Tim, though his grandson bade fair to follow in his steps. The old man’s kindly wrinkled face beamed now at sight of Blue Bonnet—“Want ter dance a bit ’fore de folkses gits yere? All right—yo’ shore looks like yo’ all ready for de dancin’.”

The two long parlors thrown into one and cleared for dancing made an admirable ballroom; at one end, potted palms fenced off the corner reserved for the elders.

“Isn’t it all too delightful!” Blue Bonnet said, as she and her uncle waltzed gaily down the length. “Please, Uncle Cliff,” she gave him her programme, “put your name down for just as many as you want—before anyone else gets here.”

“I’m not out looking for trouble, Honey!” Mr. Ashe laughed. “You play with the young folks to-night—why, that was one of the things you came East for!”

“I came East because—you know now why I wanted to come,—and what made me so horrid all that time.”

“If you’re going to call my ward names, I’ll quit dancing with you,” Mr. Ashe insisted.

“There’s Kitty!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed. Kitty had come luggage laden; she was to stay over night, Mrs. Clyde having declared that one of the pleasantest things about a party was the talking it over in bed afterwards.

“How nice you look!” Blue Bonnet said warmly: “Come on upstairs—and, oh, Kitty! You must see my flowers! Ever and ever so many sent me flowers!”

“Naturally,” Kitty observed; “didn’t you expect they would? Whose are those?” she touched the white carnations in Blue Bonnet’s girdle.

“Uncle Cliff’s, I couldn’t wear them all—and I thought he’d like it if I chose his—he’s going away so soon now, too.”

Kitty gave her hair a few touches here and there. “I’m ready now!”

There was nothing formal about Blue Bonnet’s manner of receiving her guests; she was glad to see them, and she said so. Her own enjoyment was evident; loving dancing herself, she was quite sure everyone else must be equally fond of it, and she was determined that there should be no wall-flowers at her party. Uncle Cliff was an invaluable ally, dancing with whomever she bade him.

“This is better than tea-parties?” Alec asked, when his turn with her came.

“Yes, indeed.”

“So I think; I wasn’t at that tea-party, you may remember?” “I remember you very nearly prevented my being at it.”

“Is that the reason you’re turning me down now?”

“I’m not. The next three are duty dances—with boys I don’t know very well.”

“Thanks—for not including this among them.”

Blue Bonnet turned to her next partner, a tall boy—one of the coming graduates; she hoped he wasn’t as serious as he looked.

It was a pretty sight; the long rooms, still wearing their Christmas trimmings of evergreen and holly, filled with light-hearted, bright-faced young people, keeping time to the strains of the waltz “Uncle Tim” was playing. To the elders, looking on from their sheltered corner, it was like a return to old times.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Amanda said, as she and Debby met for a moment between dances. Amanda felt that Susy’s mother was right—she had never been to a nicer dance.

“There’s Blue Bonnet with Alec’s cousin. Do you like him?” Debby asked.

Amanda hesitated. “He’s—very polite.”

“Sarah’s looking real pretty, isn’t she?” Debby said; it was Debby’s private opinion that all the club members had done themselves proud this evening. She gave her soft pink skirts a smoothing touch; pink was Debby’s color, and this was a perfectly new dress.

“She certainly is,” Amanda agreed; “and she looks as though she were having a good time, too. Mostly, one can never be quite sure whether Sarah Blake is really having a good time, or just being polite.”

Then Blue Bonnet bore down upon them. “What are you two doing off here? You are neither ‘elders’ nor chaperons!”

“Comparing notes,” Debby answered.

“Oh, we’re having the best time ever!” Amanda cried enthusiastically. Blue Bonnet Ashe wasn’t the sort of girl who never cared whether anyone else had a good time or not, so long as she had one herself; Amanda knew girls like that.

“Aunt Lucinda says we’re to form for the supper march soon,” Blue Bonnet said; “I’ve never been to this kind of a party before—but then I reckon I’ve never been to a really truly party before—but I’m trying my hardest to be a credit to the family. Please say I’ve succeeded so far!” she begged, laughingly.

“You have—so far as I’ve seen,” Debby teased.

“Oh, there’s the General!” Blue Bonnet exclaimed. “He promised to look in during the evening. I wish I might go out to supper with him, or Alec, or Uncle Cliff—someone I really know—instead of that big boy from the first grade. Imagine! He started talking ‘Sargent,’ before we’d been dancing five seconds!”

“I think, Blue Bonnet,” Sarah said, coming up, “that Miss Clyde is looking for you.”

“So do I.” Blue Bonnet gave Sarah’s knot of blue ribbons a little pat. “Are you having a good time, Sarah mia?”

“Very! So good that I am almost afraid it will be rather difficult to go back to one’s regular way of living to-morrow.”

“Then don’t think of it now!” Blue Bonnet advised.

The line was forming for the march out to supper; once in the dining-room, it broke up into little groups, four to a table.

And then, from every side came eager exclamations of surprise and pleasure; for in the center of each table was a little candle-lighted Christmas tree, from the base of which ran four crimson ribbons, to which were attached the place cards, with their borders of Christmas elves bearing dainty sprays of holly and mistletoe; while among the decorations on the trees were tiny favors, both pretty and amusing.

It was all as much a surprise to Blue Bonnet as to her guests; she had known that Miss Lucinda was giving considerable thought to the details of her party, but she had never dreamed of anything like this. Blue Bonnet told herself, that she never, never would be vexed or impatient with Aunt Lucinda again—let her seem ever so exacting.

If it would only go on and on indefinitely! “Why must all the nicest things come to an end so soon?” Blue Bonnet asked her partner abruptly.

He looked down at her in surprise—for not the first time that evening. “Doesn’t everything come to an end sooner or later?”

“That’s just what I’m complaining of! There ought to be more than sixty minutes to an hour—at times like these.”

“But, Miss Blue Bonnet, think what confusion—”

“You know—” Blue Bonnet’s eyes were most demure, “we really manage little things like that much better out in Texas.”

“And I verily believe he thought I was in earnest,” she confided to Ruth later. “Now why didn’t Aunt Lucinda send him out with Sarah?”

“Perhaps she has an eye for contrasts,” Ruth suggested. “Well, I suppose it’s all over—I’m mighty sorry!”

“So am I,” Blue Bonnet said.

And after she had said good-night to the last departing guest, and had seen Kitty on her way upstairs, promising to come too, directly, Blue Bonnet came back to where her aunt and grandmother were talking together. “You’ve given the nicest, prettiest party that ever could be!” she said gratefully, slipping a hand into both Grandmother’s and Aunt Lucinda’s; “and I just can’t thank you enough—but I’ll never, never forget it.”

“I think we may call it a perfect success from start to finish,” Miss Lucinda said.