ssers-by smile indulgently at the racket, remembering that all the
Browers are home for Christmas, and the Browers were ever a jovial
company.

Peggy gazes at her gifts quietly, but with shining eyes--little gold
cuff pins from Hazen, just like Arna's; a set of furs from Mabel and
Ben; but she likes Arna's gift best of all, a complete set of her
favourite author.

But much as they would like to linger about the Christmas tree, Peggy
and her mother, at least, must remember that the dishes must be washed
and the beds made, and that the family must get ready for church. Peggy
does not go to church, and nobody dreams how much she wants to go. She
loves the Christmas music. No hymn rings so with joy as:

Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is king.

The choir sings it only once a year, on the Christmas morning. Besides,
her chum Esther will be at church, and Peggy has been too busy to go to
see her since she came home from boarding-school for the holidays. But
somebody must stay at home, and that somebody who but Peggy? Somebody
must baste the turkey, and prepare the vegetables and take care of the
babies.

Peggy is surprised to find how difficult it is to combine dinner-getting
with baby-tending. When she opens the oven-door, there is Minna's head
thrust up under her arm, the inquisitive little nose in great danger by
reason of sputtering gravy.

"Minna," protests Peggy, "you mustn't eat another bit of candy!" and
Minna opens her mouth in a howl, prolonged, but without tears and
without change of colour. Robin joins in, he does not know why. Peggy is
a doting aunt, but an honest one. She is vexed by a growing conviction
that Mabel's babies are sadly spoiled. Peggy is ashamed of herself;
surely she ought to be perfectly happy playing with Minna and Robin.
Instead, she finds that the thing she would like best of all to be doing
at this moment, next to going to church, would be to be lying on her
father's couch in the office all by herself, reading.

The dinner is a savoury triumph for Peggy and her mother. The gravy and
the mashed potato are entirely of Peggy's workmanship, and Peggy has had
a hand in most of the other dishes, too, as the mother proudly tells.
How that merry party can eat! Peggy is waitress, and it is long before
the passing is over, and she can sit down in her own place. She is just
as fond of the unusual Christmas good things as are the rest, but
somehow, before she is well started at her turkey,