home and bring their young friends in, too,
or whether they longed to go outside their father's house to meet their
playfellows. Needless to say that, with such a father, Tom and Jerry had
a pretty good time at home, and it was only what they expected when, the
day before Christmas, as all four boys were racketing around the kitchen
and nearly convulsing Mrs. Duncan with laughter by their antics, while
she tried almost vainly to finish cooking the last savory dainties for
the morrow, that Mr. Duncan should suddenly appear in the doorway, and
say:

"Now, boys, to-night will be Christmas Eve. You know in the heart of the
forest we can't get much in the way of entertainment, and I don't want
our young Jamaica friends to feel homesick for their beautiful, Southern
country to-night of all nights. I've racked my brains to think of some
amusement after supper this Christmas Eve, but I seem to have failed.
Can't you, Tom and Jerry, help me out?"

There was a brief silence; then, of course, the sweet busy mother spoke:

"Peter Ottertail and I have schemed together for that. I have invited
him to supper, and we are to have a roaring fire built here in the
kitchen, and Peter is to tell the four boys some Indian stories, while
you and I, father, finish the Christmas tree in the parlor. What do you
think of my idea?"

She need not have asked, for such a clamor of delight went up that her
own words were drowned.

"Excellent!" cried Mr. Duncan, when finally he could be heard.
"Excellent, for we don't want you young mischiefs in the parlor at all,
seeing your presents the day before; and the only one I know who could
keep you out is Peter. Splendid idea of yours, Mary. Boys, it's these
mothers who have the real Christmas things in their hearts."

"Yes, and in the oven, too!" laughed Mrs. Duncan, extracting therefrom a
big pan of deliciously light cake, whose spicy fragrance assailed the
boys' nostrils temptingly. "This," she continued, "is to be eaten here
in the kitchen to-night. It goes with Peter's stories."

"Jolly!" said someone, and the four youthful voices immediately swung
into:

"For mother's a jolly good fellow,
For mother's a jolly good fellow,
For mother's a jolly good fellow,
Which nobody can deny!"

And, joining in the last line, there boomed a fifth voice which sounded
suspiciously like Mr. Duncan's.

* * * * * * * *

A crackling wood fire was roaring up the chimney from the large sto