they point to a quarter to
eleven." She reached reluctantly for her hat and her wraps.

"How can I ever thank you, Marjorie," began Constance, but Marjorie put
a soft hand over her friend's lips.

"Please don't," she implored. "I've loved to do it." She held out both
hands to Constance. "I wish you the merriest sort of a merry Christmas."

"I hope you will have a perfectly wonderful day," was the earnest
response. "You'll come over to-morrow and see how happy you've made
Charlie and all of us, won't you?"

"I'll come," promised Marjorie. "You couldn't keep me away."

She reached home just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of her father
disappearing up the stairs with a huge box in his arms, while her mother
hastily dropped some thing into the drawer of the library table.

"There, I caught both of you," she cried in triumph. "Confess you were
hiding things from me, weren't you?"

"I'll answer your questions to-morrow," beamed her father.

"I forgive you both as long as the things are for me," was her calm
declaration.

"What is she talking about?" solemnly asked Mr. Dean, with an air of
complete mystification.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Marjorie,
making a rush for him.

"Help, help!" he called feebly. "The battalion has been ambushed and the
general captured."

"And held prisoner," added Marjorie, severely. "Unless he informs the
second lieutenant what is in a certain big, white box with which he
escaped upstairs, he shall be court-martialed."

"Put off the court-martial until to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell,"
compromised the captured general, throwing his free arm across his
lieutenant's shoulder in a most unmilitary manner.

"All right, I'll let you go on parole," returned his daughter. "I'm too
sleepy to do guard duty to-night. How I wish you might have seen
Charlie's little wagon when we finished it! We had a tree, too."

Forgetting that she was sleepy, Marjorie poured forth the story of her
evening's work to her sympathetic listeners and it was ten minutes to
twelve before she said good-night and went yawning to bed.

Eight o'clock Christmas morning found her awake and stirring. Wrapped in
her bathrobe, she pattered downstairs to the living-room, her arms full
of bundles, but her father and mother were already there before her, and
their packages greatly outnumbered hers. After the kisses and greetings
of the day had been given her father handed the big white bo