n_: "Yes, it is pretty good. But the worst of Christmas
is that it rouses up all your old friends."

_Fountain_: "They feel so abnormally good, confound them. I suppose
poor old Hazard half killed himself looking this thing up and building
the joke to go with it."

_Mrs. Fountain_: "Well, take it off, now, and come help me with the
children's presents. You're quite forgetting about them, and it'll be
morning and you'll have the little wretches swarming in before you can
turn round. Dear little souls! I can sympathize with their impatience,
of course. But what are you going to do with these bath-robes? You
can't wear _four_ bath-robes."

_Fountain_: "I can change them every day. But there ought to be seven.
This hood is rather a new wrinkle, though, isn't it? I suppose it's
for a voyage, and you pull it up over your head when you come through
the corridor back to your stateroom. We shall have to go to Europe,
Lucy."

_Mrs. Fountain_: "I would go to Asia, Africa, and Oceanica, to escape
another Christmas. Now if there are any more bath-robes-- Come in,
Maggie."

VIII

MAGGIE, THE FOUNTAINS

_Maggie_, bringing in a bundle: "Something a District Messenger
brought. Will you sign for it, ma'am?"

_Mrs. Fountain_: "You sign, Clarence. If I know anything about the
look and the feel of a bundle, this _is_ another bath-robe, but I
shall soon see." While she is cutting the string and tearing the
wrappings away, Fountain signs and Maggie goes. Mrs. Fountain shakes
out the folds of the robe. "Well, upon my word, I should think there
was conspiracy to insult you, Clarence. I should like to know who has
had the effrontery-- What's on it?"

_Fountain_, reading from the card which had fallen out of the garment
to the floor: "'With Christmas greetings from Mrs. Arthur J. Gibby.'"

_Mrs. Fountain_, dropping the robe and seizing the card: "_Mrs._
Arthur J. Gibby! Well, upon my word, this _is_ impudence. It's not
only impudence, it's indelicacy. And I had always thought she was the
very embodiment of refinement, and I've gone about saying so. Now I
shall have to take it back. The idea of a lady sending a bath-robe to
a gentleman! What next, I wonder! What right has Mrs. Gibby to send
you a bath-robe? Don't prevaricate! Remember that the truth is the
only thing that can save you. Matters must have gone pretty far, when
a woman could send you anything so--intimate. What a