Christmas eve was, as Dorothy had predicted, a starry night of frost and blanketing snow. Red candles twinkled in every holly-wreathed window of the Dixon home, and a large fir tree before the house glittered with colored Christmas lights.

If old Saint Nick had peeped into the dining room windows, he would have seen a merry company standing round the dinner table, gay with the crimson-berried holly and waxy mistletoe. At the head of the table stood Dorothy, appropriately and becomingly dressed in ruby-red velvet. On her right there was an empty place, and beyond it, old Doctor Winn, a boutonniere of holly in the lapel of his dinner coat; Mr. Bolton, Bill’s father, was next down the table, and just beyond stood Ashton Sanborn. Facing Dorothy at the other end, her father chatted with a bright-eyed Gretchen, who had Bill on her right. Next to Bill came Doctor Winn’s ex-butler, John Tunbridge, looking none the worse for his part in the mixup of the fatal night. Beyond Tunbridge stood Dorothy’s Uncle Michael, and then another empty chair.

“Just a moment, Dorothy,” said her father as she was about to sit down. “We’ve a surprise for you.”

“Oh, are there more people coming?” She indicated the extra places to her right and left. “I thought our party was as nearly complete as possible. Of course it would have been swell if Janet and Howard could have been with us.”

“Dum—dum—de dum!” hummed Bill, beating time with his hand like an orchestra conductor. From the drawing room a piano crashed into the opening chords of Wagner’s beautiful wedding march.

“Here Comes the Bride ...” sang the guests at table, and Dorothy’s heart skipped a beat.

Through the curtained doorway, walked a blushing girl, leaning on the arm of a tall young man. She wore a bridal gown of white satin, and her smiling face, below the draped tulle veil, was the exact counterpart of the astonished girl at the head of the table.

“Janet! Howard!” Dorothy ran to them and was caught in her cousin’s arms. “Where under the sun did you come from? I thought you sailed for South America last week!”

“That,” said Howard, grinning broadly, “is a surprise that Mr. Sanborn sprang on us the day after we were married. He persuaded me to give up the South American job and got me a much better one with Mr. Bolton.”

“Meet Mr. Howard Bright, the new manager of my Bridgeport plant,” cried Bill’s father, and everyone clapped.

“Why, that’s marvelous!” exclaimed Dorothy. “It’s only an hour’s drive over there from New Canaan. We’ll be able to see a lot of each other, Janet.”

Then Uncle Michael, looking very happy and proud, kissed his daughter and led her to the chair between his place and Dorothy’s.

“Daddy gave me the wedding dress,” whispered Janet. “It’s a little bit late for it, but he insisted.”

“You look simply darling,” began her cousin, then stopped. Doctor Winn, who had pushed in her chair, was addressing the company.

“Ladies, and gentlemen,” he said, “before we start on the Christmas cheer which our little hostess and her father have so graciously provided, I would like to propose a toast or two, and may I ask you to stand again while you drink them with me?” He held up his glass of golden cider. “First, let us drink long life and great happiness to our charming bride, Mrs. Howard Bright, and her gallant husband!”

The company drank the toast enthusiastically. Then Uncle Abe, the Dixon’s darkey butler, better known to some of Dorothy’s friends as “Ol’ Man River,” grinning from one black ear to the other, laid small leather jewel cases before Janet and Howard.

“Just a little Christmas gift, my children,” explained Doctor Winn.

“Oh, may we open them now?” asked Janet eagerly.

“You most certainly may, my dear.”

They snapped open the lids and the company leaned forward to get a better view of the contents.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Doctor Winn,” began Howard, fingering his handsome gold repeater and chain.

“Nor I—why—my goodness! I never thought I’d have a string of real pearls. They are simply too exquisite for words!”

Doctor Winn laughed and held up a protesting hand. “I’m sure I’m glad you like them, but guests are requested not to embarrass the speaker. Now, I have another toast to propose; and this time we will drink a very Merry Christmas, long life and great happiness to Miss Margaret Schmidt, my new companion-housekeeper!”

Gretchen was overwhelmed and blushed furiously. Uncle Abe placed another jewel case before her, which she opened and found therein a pearl necklace, the counterpart of Janet’s. All she could do was to sit and gaze at it with her wide open china-blue eyes. Mr. Dixon raised the necklace, slipped it over the embarrassed girl’s head, and nodded to the old gentleman.

Doctor Winn took the hint and turned the attention of the table guests to himself. “Third and last, but not in any way the least,” he said, “we will drink to the heroine of the already famous case of the Double Cousins. Ladies and gentlemen, I pledge you Dorothy Dixon—whose bravery and loyalty to her country gained the nation’s thanks through its mouthpiece, our President in Washington this week. A very Merry Christmas, my dear, long life and great happiness to you and to our friend Professor, alias Winnite! By the way, where is the pup? I have a little remembrance for him, too.”

“He’s right here beside me, asleep in his basket, Doctor Winn.” Dorothy picked up the yawning pup and sat him on her lap.

The old gentleman took a slightly larger morocco case out of his pocket, this time, and laid it on the white cloth before her. With a smile of thanks, she pressed the spring and disclosed, lying on a velvet pad, a double string of gleaming pink pearls. She looked at him, speechless with pleasure, then down again at the necklace. As she did so, she started, for beneath the pearls lay an envelope.

She picked it up and drew forth a paper—“Why! why, it’s my copy of the Winnite formula!” she cried.

“The only existing copy, my dear, which I hereby present to your puppy.”

“But, Doctor Winn, I don’t understand!”

“My terms to the government were that Winnite should be used for national defense alone,” he said solemnly. “Washington would not agree. Therefore I wish the formula destroyed.”

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Dorothy leaned over and kissed him. “But let’s not give it to Professor this time, please. The last one made him horribly sick.”

She held the paper over a lighted candle and watched Winnite burn to charred ash. “I certainly am the happiest girl in the world tonight—but there is just one more toast I’d like to propose before we commence dinner. Here’s a long life and a Merry Christmas to Mr. and Mrs. Martin Lawson—if it hadn’t been for them, think of all the fun we’d have missed!”