Van sprang off the car steps and rushed up tumultuously to Polly in the midst of the group come down to the railroad station to meet the boys.

"O dear," he grumbled in a loud voice, "now we can't have any Christmas at all."

"Hulloa, Van—Hulloa, Percy." Pickering Dodge tried his best to cover this remark by an extra amount of hilarity, as he clapped each of the boys smartly on the back. "Well, you're an awful long time in getting here—I should say half an hour late."

"For shame, Van!" cried Percy at his heels, and edging off toward Polly.

"For shame?" repeated Van, hotly; "well, that's no more than you've been saying on the train,—'we can't have any Christmas,'—and you know it, Percy Whitney."

"Stop that, you little beggar." Pickering's long arm got possession of Van, who, instead of occupying the vantage-ground of first arrival, had now the vexation of seeing Percy in that coveted position.

"Why did you pull me back?" he cried in a small fury at hearing the bustle and excitement of the group he had just left so summarily.

"Because you were making yourself a nuisance. Fancy such a way to come home for the holidays, Van."

"There aren't to be any holidays," howled Van, his face very red. "Let me go, Pick," struggling violently to free himself from Pickering's long fingers.

"No, indeed." Pickering wound his fingers into a still tighter hold. "Not much, sir, until you stop those whines. How you can go on so, I don't see!"

By this time, Pickering, over his shoulder, had the ill luck to see Clare take the first place in marshalling off the party, a position he had fully expected to occupy himself whenever Jasper and Ben were away. All this didn't in the least add to his satisfaction. "Well, I wish you'd stayed back in your school," he declared in extreme irritation. And Alexia, running up, only made matters worse by crying out: "Come on, Van, I'm sure it's bad enough to bear all these dreadful things without coming clear down here for a boy like you. Do come on, we're all waiting for you." So it was a very gloomy party that finally became settled in the two carriages.

"I'm not going to sit with him," declared Van, having freed himself from Pickering, and bolting for the second carriage.

"No, you're coming with me," said Alexia, hurrying after him. "Come, Polly, here's a seat. Here," and she waved frantically.

But Polly was already in the other carriage. And seeing this, Alexia was about to desert her charge, when Thomas, on the box of the forward conveyance, whipped up and off it went.

"O dear me!" cried Alexia; "somebody stop it. Why, Polly Pepper was going with me," and she was just about to jump out.

"No use, Alexia," said Pickering, who at the last moment had found himself crowded out of carriage number one, and putting her to one side as he helped Cathie in, and then David, at last he got in himself. "Don't you see they're a good bit on the way home already?"

"Yes, and here I am shut up in here with all of you, whom I don't want in the least to go with," cried Alexia, in the greatest dismay, sitting down in her corner too suddenly for comfort, as the horses started up, and waving her hands frantically.

"Thank you," said Pickering, with a low bow, "I'm sure we all feel much obliged to you."

"Well, I don't," said Cathie, in a dudgeon, "feel obliged a single bit, and I'm sure I didn't want to come with you, Alexia, only there wasn't room in the other carriage, so I had to."

"And I thought Polly Pepper was surely coming in this carriage," ran on Alexia, too vexed to stop herself, and turning anything but a sweet countenance upon the rest of the carriage-load. "She started for it."

"Don't look so at me, Alexia," said Pickering. "I'm not to blame; Clare took her off."

"It's just like Clare—always meddling," said Alexia, thoroughly out of temper. "Van Whitney, you're sitting all over my coat, and it's my best one, too," and she turned and twitched it away with an angry hand.

"I didn't sit all over it," retorted Van, "and I didn't want to come with you, but you made me."

"Well, because you and Pickering were having such a fight. O me, I wish I'd let you alone," she added, sinking back into her corner.

But Van, much preferring Alexia to Pickering, couldn't say the same, so the carriage rolled on to a gloomy silence within.

"Oh, I say," began Pickering, after this had gone on for some minutes, "this is a sweet way to go to Mr. King's, isn't it?"

"Well, we can't help it," cried Alexia, flying up from her corner; "I'm sure, Pickering, you can't blame any of us. And I haven't got Polly Pepper; you know she was coming in here with me, and everything is just as bad as it can be."

"You're always tagging on to Polly Pepper; I'm glad you haven't got her this time," declared Cathie, in venom from her corner.

"Of course I'm always after Polly," said Alexia, decidedly, "when she's my very dearest friend. O my, don't I wish I could get out!"

"Well, you will pretty soon," said Pickering, coolly; "we'll all get out, for we'll be there in a minute. And then how we'll look, for we're supposed to be helping Mr. King's family, and they're in such trouble."

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, in great distress, whirling around suddenly to look out of the window, her long, fight braids flying over her shoulder. "Pickering Dodge, we aren't near Mr. King's yet," she declared, peering out; "we haven't got to—oh, yes we have—O dear me, what shall we do?" and she flew back again into her corner.

"We've just got to do something," said Pickering, in a determined voice. Little David had been past speaking for some time, and, wedged in between Cathie and Pickering, had been chiefly occupied in twisting his hands, and trying not to think how very dreadful it all was, and how Mamsie would feel to see them all come in.

"We can't do anything," said Alexia, despairingly; "it's all as dreadful as it can be, and we can't help it," and she ran her long arms as far as she could into her muff, and hugged it up tightly.

"Well, we've got to help it," said Pickering. "There's Jasper," he broke off suddenly, for it was as much as he could do to think about the accident that had summoned Mr. King and Ben away from home, let alone trying to talk about it, and he swallowed hard and looked out of his window.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Alexia, faintly from her corner.

Then she sat up straight. "Oh, I know, let's look pleasant, that's what the man says when he takes my photograph, and he won't throw back his old woollen cover from the machine till I smile, so I'm going to now,"—which she did with such surprising effect, that Pickering, turning around, couldn't help but join all the others in the general laugh that set up; even little David forgot everything else for that moment.

The consequence was that when the carriage drew up to the door of the big stone house, the occupants tumbled out and ran up the steps in quite good humor, to join the other half of the party, in the centre of which were Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney.

"Now that's very nice and cheerful," said Mother Fisher, beaming on them all. Mrs. Whitney, her arms around her two boys, was beyond speaking. "You must all stay and have luncheon with Percy and Van; they'll enjoy it so much more," and she led the way to the dining room.

"Ugh, O dear me!" Alexia ran after her. "Oh, don't ask me; I can't stay, Mrs. Fisher, truly I can't."

"Why, Alexia,"—Mother Fisher turned on her in great surprise,—"it will help to make things pleasanter," she said slowly.

"Oh, I can't; don't ask me," mumbled Alexia, wildly, and twisting her hands together. One thing only she now really longed for, and that was to stay for the dear little luncheon party she knew Polly's mother had made ready. But she had lost it all; and she darted back and, clutching Polly's arm a moment in passing, "I'm going home," she said.

"What?" cried Polly, flying around to seize her. "Oh, no, indeed, you are not, Alexia. Why, you are all to stay; didn't you hear Mamsie say so?"

"Well, I can't," said Alexia. "O dear me, I'm going to cry, and I can't get my handkerchief. Polly Pepper, do let me go!"

But instead, Polly held very fast indeed to her, and the next moment Alexia found herself in the big dining room, in the midst of the delightsome luncheon party made for the two schoolboys' home-coming.

"Well, I shan't sit down, anyway," declared Alexia, desperately, "and I'm going to tell Mrs. Fisher." With that she darted away from Polly and ran over to her mother. "I haven't been cheerful, and I was just as bad as I could be coming up in the carriage," she said as fast as the words would come, "so you see I can't stay."

"This is your seat, Alexia," said Mother Fisher, just as if she hadn't heard a single word, and laying her hand on a chair, she pulled it out from the table; "hurry and sit down, dear, for those two boys must be very hungry after their journey," and Alexia obeyed and slipped into her chair, for once in her life not waiting to get Polly Pepper next to her.

And after the little luncheon was over,—and it didn't seem to have made a bit of difference that every one besides the two hungry boys had already had a midday meal, for it all tasted so good,—why, things began to get a bit more cheery. And Mother Fisher and Mrs. Whitney even smiled over to each other. But Van, his hunger appeased, slipped out after his mother when at last the feast was over.

"Oh, Vanny, my boy, it is so good to get you home," she cried, affectionately throwing her arm around him, as they went down the hall.

"I'm going to your room," announced Van, without any preamble.

"How good that is," she declared as he hugged up close to her. "You don't know, Van, how I have wanted to see you and Percy."

"O dear," said Van, but he crowded closer than ever.

"And—well, here we are," and Mrs. Whitney hurried into her pretty room with the haste of a girl, and turned her face with its little pink glow of happiness on him. "Oh, Van!"

"I've been bad," said Van, not looking at her, but dropping his eyes to the floor.

"Oh, Van!" Mrs. Whitney laid her hand on her heart, and all the pretty flush died from her cheek. "What—" but she couldn't get any farther, for somebody fumbled at the door, and, without any further announcement, walked in.

"O dear me!" exclaimed Percy, withdrawing when he saw Van.

"Come in, Percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. It would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have happened!

So Percy walked in, and he stood just like Van, only worse, for he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Why, what is it? What can it be?" cried their mother. "Oh, do tell me, boys; don't be afraid."

Van turned off on his heel till he got his back to Percy. Then he found his tongue. But it was only to say again, "I was bad."

"Well, so was I," Percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull them out as suddenly.

"You must just tell me what you have done," said Mrs. Whitney, looking desperately first at one and then at the other, "or I shall go for Mrs. Fisher," and she started for the door.

"Oh, no, no, Mamma!" they cried together, and Van whirled around and held her gown.

"I certainly shall," declared their mother, firmly, "unless you tell me at once what is the matter," and she took another step toward the hall.

"I fretted about—" began Van.

"Not having any Christmas," said Percy, coming in as a finish. "O dear!"

"Oh, boys!"

"Don't look so, Mamma, don't!" implored Van, clutching her gown with desperate fingers.

"And I did, too," said Percy. His hands now seemed to have no comfort in his pockets, so he twisted them miserably together.

"You mean when you were coming home in the carriage?" asked Mrs. Whitney, a sorrowful little droop coming in her pretty mouth.

"Yes," said Van, his head hanging. "O dear me,"—he had hard work not to cry, but he wagged his head from side to side, and somehow kept the tears back,—"I did, anyway."

"Well, I did, too," said Percy, hastily; "that is, on the train. O dear!"

"Well, this is very bad," said their mother. But her voice was quite gentle, and she put her arm around each of them. "When we know how happy we ought to be that Jasper is really better, although he can't come home until after Christmas, how can we think of a holiday, and fret because we lose it?"

"We won't fret," said Percy, eagerly. "Oh, we won't, Mamma, ever again."

"No," said Van, "we won't, truly, Mamma."

While this was going on in Mrs. Whitney's room, there was a small clamor raised downstairs. Where in the world were the two boys just come home from school?

"I know," declared Alexia, who had recovered her spirits. "Polly," and she drew her off into the library, "they went upstairs with Mrs. Whitney," she said with a loud whisper in her ear.

"I heard you," cried little Dick, creeping in back of the two girls, "and I shall just go up to Mamma's room," and he began to skip off joyously.

"Oh, no, you mustn't," cried Alexia, deserting Polly to race after him and seize his blouse. "The very idea—Polly, come and help me hold this dreadful boy."

"I shall go up and see my Mamma," said Dick, in a small fury, and pulling and kicking violently. "She is my very own Mamma, and I shall see her."

"But you mustn't," said Alexia, very red in the face. "O dear me, why did I speak! Polly, do help me," for just then Phronsie had run in between the two girls, and before any one had a chance to hardly breathe, a dreadful sound struck their ears.

"There, see what you have done!" exclaimed little Dick, in a wrathful key. Alexia's fingers fell away, and he held up a dangling end of lace, all frayed and ragged. "You've torn my blouse, and I shall see my Mamma." With that he set out on a run for the stairs.