n exchange of seats with the lady at
Sube's side, and thus restore Biscuit to the damsel of his choice.

The situation quickly became intolerable to Sube, and under cover of the
confusion caused by the entry of a corps of waitresses bearing napkins
and plates, he contrived to escape into the hall. This was his first
false step; but others quickly followed.

For, finding nobody in the hall to observe him, he slipped into the
deserted parlor. This was done with no definite purpose other than a
desire to remove himself from a painful sight; the boy was simply
wandering in the midst of a haze of bewildered jealousy--until his eyes
fell on the Christmas tree. And then he came to his senses with a
perceptible bump.

If the tree was really a witness against him, he ought to know it. If
there _was_ a little black ring around the trunk surely it had escaped
his attention. The candles had all been extinguished; there could be no
possible harm in examining the trunk, and then he would be sure. He was
drawn to the spot with all the fascination of a murderer for the scene
of his crime.

He tipped the tree and attempted to peer under the box in which it
stood, when in some way it got away from him and fell to the floor with
a tremendous crash, the tinkling ornaments flying in all directions.

But alas! There was no opening through the bottom of the box!

As he stood glowering over the prostrate tree, he heard his name called.
At almost the same instant he heard Mr. Guilford asking what the crash
was. Hurried footsteps in the hall became audible. He was caught
red-handed!

He glanced around desperately for a window through which he might essay
a dive, when he spied

[Illustration]

a door that he had not previously noticed; and quickly opening it he
peered into what seemed to be a deserted bedroom. He stepped inside,
softly closing the door after him. As he stood listening he heard the
sound of excited voices in the parlor. Then he heard a rustling from the
vicinity of the bed, and the deep voice of Mrs. Hotchkiss-Harger saying
languidly:

"I'm not asleep, Bridget.... Put the tray on the table.... I don't feel
as if I should ever be able to taste another morsel of food ... but I
suppose you may as well leave it.... And, Bridget, I seem to feel a
draft from that window; would you mind closing it."

Sube glanced gratefully at the partly opened French window, and closed
it, but not until he was on the outside. Then he threw