ave them," said Hippy with a seriousness that
surprised even himself.

"Same here, Hippy," agreed David gravely.

"And here," was the united response from the others.

Jessica, who had seen Mabel Allison into the car Mrs. Gibson had sent to
convey her to Hawk's Nest, was the next arrival. Later Tom Gray appeared
with a grip and a suit case. When the real work of trimming the tree
began, Hippy retired to the library table with the plea that he had not
yet tagged his gifts. To that end he wrote what seemed to Nora O'Malley,
who eyed him suspiciously, a surprising amount of cards, chuckling
softly to himself as he wrote. Happening to catch her eye he looked
rather guilty, then, cocking his head to one side, simpered
languishingly, "What shall I say to thee, heart of my heart?" Nora's
tip-tilted little nose was promptly elevated still higher, and she
walked away without observing the triumphant gleam in Hippy's blue eyes.

At one o'clock the Eight Originals halted for luncheon, which proved to
be a merry meal. By half-past two o'clock the tall balsam tree, heavy
with its weight of decorations and strange Christmas fruit, was
pronounced finished, and the party of jubilant young people reluctantly
separated to assemble after dinner for one of their old-time frolics.

The evening train brought Arnold Evans, and Miriam found herself whisked
down Chapel Hill toward Grace's home by David and Arnold despite her
protests that neither she nor Arnold really belonged. "You and Arnold
are the honorary members," David reminded her, "and are, therefore,
eligible to all our revels."

When, at eight o'clock, the little group of guests, which included Mrs.
Gray, had gathered in the Harlowe's cozy living room and to Mr. Harlowe
had fallen the honor of playing Santa Claus, something peculiar
happened. Nearly all the gifts fell to Hippy, who rose with every
repetition of his name, bowed profoundly, grinned significantly in his
best Chessy-cat manner and, swooping down upon the gifts, gathered them
unto himself. As he was about to take smiling possession of a large,
flat package an indignant, "Let me see that package, Mr. Harlowe," from
Nora O'Malley caused all eyes to be focused upon it.

"Just as I suspected," sputtered Nora, glaring at the offending Hippy,
whose grin appeared to grow wider with every second. Taking the package
from Mr. Harlowe, she triumphantly held up a holly-wreathed card that
had been deftly concealed beneath a fol