MABEL rose very early indeed on Christmas morning to explore her bulging stocking and to open her packages; but Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were even earlier, and they were delighted to find that the weather had remained mild. Putting on their outside wraps and warm overshoes, the worthy couple went with good-natured Martin and Maggie, the nimble nursery maid, to the garden as soon as it was light. They strung the tall tree from top to bottom with tinsel and glittering Christmas-tree ornaments, the finest that money could buy. Martin and the maid, perched on tall step-ladders, worked enthusiastically. Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane handed up the decorations. The cook, watching them from the basement window, grinned broadly at the sight.

"Sure," said she, "'tis a lot of children they are; but 'twould do no harrum if all the wurruld was loike 'em."

By church time the towering tree was in readiness except for a few of the more precious gifts, to be added later.

"I hope," said Mrs. Crane, with a lingering, backward glance, when there was no further excuse for remaining outdoors, "that the air will be as quiet to-night as it is now. It would be dreadful if we couldn't light the candles."

"We'll have to trust to luck," returned Mr. Black, "but I'm quite sure that luck will be with us."

Of course the girls enjoyed their stockings at home, their gifts that arrived by mail and express from out-of-town relatives and the bountiful dinners at the home tables. But the Black-Crane tree to which Henrietta, likewise, had been invited, was something entirely new and so proved particularly enjoyable; if not, indeed, the crowning event of the day. Martin had cleared away the snow and had laid boards and even a carpet for them to stand on, and there were chairs and extra wraps, only the girls were too excited to use them. But Mrs. Crane and placid Rosa Marie sat enveloped in steamer rugs while the others capered about the brilliantly lighted tree, constantly discovering new beauties.

"I declare," sighed Mrs. Crane, happily, "you're the youngest of the lot, Peter."

"Well," returned Mr. Black, "why not? It's the first real Christmas I've had for forty years—but let's have another Christmas dinner on New Year's Day; I was disappointed when all these young folks said, 'No, thank you,' to our invitation to dinner. Just remember, girls, we expect to see you all here the first of January or there'll be trouble—I'll see that it lasts all the year, too."

"Peter Black," warned Mrs. Crane, "that step-ladder's prancing on one leg. If you go over that bluff you won't stop till you land in the lake. Let Martin do all the circus acts."

"I've got it, now," said Mr. Black, coming down safely with the small parcel that had dangled so long just above his reach. "Here's something for Henrietta Bedford, with the tree's compliments."

"How nice of you to remember me," cried Henrietta, opening the parcel. "And what a dear little pin—just what I needed. Thank you very much indeed."

Of all their gifts, however, the Cottagers liked their lovely little watches the best. They had expected no such magnificent gifts from Mr. Black, and their own people had, of course, considered them much too young to be trusted with watches.

"Dear me," said Mabel, strutting about with her timepiece pinned to her blouse, "I feel too grown-upedy for words. I never expected this moment to come."

"I've always wanted a watch," breathed Jean, "but I certainly supposed I'd have to wait until I'd graduated from high-school—folks almost always get them then."

"And I," beamed Marjory, "never expected a pretty, really truly girl's watch, because—worse luck—I'm to get Aunty Jane's awful watch when she dies. Of course I don't want her to die a minute before her time, but getting even that watch seemed sort of hopeless because all Aunty Jane's ancestors that weren't killed by accident lived to enjoy their nineties. But that doesn't prevent Aunty Jane's promising me that clumsy old turnip whenever she's particularly pleased with me."

Bettie was too delighted for speech. But her big brown eyes spoke eloquently for her.

Rosa Marie accepted the unusual tree, all her Teddy bears, her dolls and other gifts, very much as a matter of course. Nothing it appeared was ever sufficiently surprising to astonish calm little Rosa Marie.

"Perhaps," offered Bettie, "she's awfully surprised inside."

"I know I am," laughed Mabel. "Inside and out, too."

Then, just as Mrs. Crane had decided that Rosa Marie had been outdoors long enough, the Slater carriage arrived for the girls. Mr. Black, beaming at the success of his Christmas party, packed them with all their belongings into the vehicle and they rolled happily away.

They stopped at their own homes just long enough to drop most of the gifts they had garnered from the Black-Crane tree; and then Henrietta whisked her friends to the Slater home, where Mrs. Slater entertained them for two hours over a delightful, genuinely English Christmas supper.

Henrietta's tree, too, was a very handsome one. A realistic Santa Claus who seemed as English as the supper, since he dropped the letter H just as Simmons always did, distributed the gifts. When the Cottagers opened odd, foreign-looking parcels and found that Henrietta had given each girl a set of three beautiful Oriental boxes with jewelled tops, their delight knew no bounds. They had expected nothing so fine.

"You see," explained Henrietta, "I told Father, months ago, to send me a lot of little things to give away for Christmas and of course he bought boxes. I believe he buys every one he sees."

"They're darlings," declared Jean, dreamily. "They take you away to far-off places where things smell old and—and magnificent."

"It's the grown-upness of my presents that I like," explained eleven-year-old Mabel, with a big sigh of satisfaction. "It's lovely to have people treat you as if you were somebody."

"You see," laughed Marjory, "it's only two years ago that an absent-minded aunt of Mr. Bennett's sent Mabel a rattle, and the poor child can't forget it."

"Miss 'Enrietta," inquired Santa Claus, anxiously, when the Slater tree, too, had been stripped of all but its decorations, "might Hi be hexcused now? Hi'm due at a Christmas ball and Hi'm hawfully afride these togs is meltin' me 'igh collar."

"Yes," laughed Henrietta, "you've done nobly and I hope you'll have a lovely time at the party."

It was half-past ten before the Cottagers got to bed that night—a long day because they had risen so early.

"But," breathed Bettie, happily, "when days are as nice as this I like 'em long."

"It's nice to have friends," said Jean.

"I wish," sighed Mabel, "they'd make some kind of a watch that had to be wound every hour; it seems awfully hard to wait until morning."

When Mrs. Bennett looked in that night to see if Mabel had remembered to take off her best hair ribbon, she found a doll on each side of the blissful slumberer, a watch pinned to her nightdress, a jeweled box clasped loosely in each relaxed hand and at least half a bushel of other treasures under the uncomfortable pillow. As Mrs. Bennett gently removed all these articles and straightened the bed-clothes Mabel murmured in her sleep, "Merry Christmas, girls."