tricot underneath.
"Mais non, Madame, ou l'aurait-il trouve?" He had a miserable little
shirt underneath which may once have been flannel, but which was worn
threadbare.

We chose our day and then adjourned to the church, where the Mayor
and a nice, red-cheeked, wrinkled old woman[8] who keeps the
ornaments, such as they are, of the church were waiting for us. It was
certainly bare and neglected, the old church, bits of plaster dropping
off walls and ceilings, and the altar and one or two little statues
still in good condition; but we saw we could arrange it pretty well
with greens, the few flowers, chrysanthemums, Christmas roses, etc.,
that were still in the green-house, a new red carpet for the altar
steps, and of course vases, tall candlesticks, etc. There was one
handsome bit of old lace on a white nappe for the altar, and a good
dress for the Virgin. We could have the school benches, and the Mayor
would lend chairs for the "quality." On the whole we were satisfied,
and told W. triumphantly at dinner that the Mayor, so far from making
any objection, was pleased as Punch; he had never seen a Christmas
Tree either.

[8] La Mere Rogov.

[Illustration: The Mayor and a nice, red-cheeked, wrinkled old woman
were waiting for us.]

The next day the list of the children was sent according to age and
sex--also the old people; and we were very busy settling what we must do
in the way of toys. The principal thing was to go to Paris and get all
we wanted--toys, "betises", and shiny things for the Tree, etc.
Henrietta and I undertook that, and we went off the same day that W.
left for London. It was bitterly cold--the ground frozen hard--and we
had a long drive, eighteen kilometres through Villers-Cotterets
forest--but no snow, only a beautiful white frost--all the trees and
bushes covered with rime. It was like driving through a fairy forest.
When we had occasional gleams of sunlight every leaf sparkled, and the
red berries of the holly stood out beautifully from all the white. The
fine old ruins of La Ferte looked splendid rising out of a mass of
glistening underwood and long grass. We are very proud of our old
chateau-fort, which has withstood well the work of time. It was begun
(and never finished) by Louis d'Orleans in 1303, and was never
inhabited. Now there is nothing left but the facade and great round
towers, but quite enough to show what it might have been. There is also
a bas-relief, perfectly well preserved,