orning of the day before Christmas to
meet the other Club boys and build the Ship in the hall of the
orphanage. They worked there for several hours and lunched with James
and Margaret at the Hancocks'. The rest of the Mortons and Katharine
took over the parcels in the early afternoon in the car and arranged
them on the deck as had been planned, and then all the young people
came back together, for they were to have a part in the lighting of the
Rosemont Christmas Tree.

The tree was a huge Norway spruce and it was set up in front of the high
school which had a lawn before it large enough to hold a goodly crowd of
observers. The choirs of all the churches had volunteered their services
for the occasion. They were placed on a stand elevated above the crowd
so that they could lead the singing and be heard at a distance.

Except for murmurs of admiration and a long-drawn breath of delight
there was no sound from the throng. It was too beautiful for speech;
the meaning was too laden with brotherly love and cheer for it to be
mistaken. A sad-eyed girl smiled to herself and gazed with new hope in
her face; a pickpocket took his hand out of his neighbor's bag that had
opened like magic under his practised touch. Babies stretched out their
arms to the glitter; grown men stared silently with unaccustomed tears
wetting their eyes. The school children sang on and on, "Oh, come all ye
faithful, joyful and triumphant;" then "Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King;" and "It came upon the midnight clear." The
fresh young voices rang gloriously, strengthened by the more mature
voices of the choirs.

The stars were coming out before the first person turned away, and all
through the night watchers of the tree's resplendent glory were found by
the patrolling policeman gazing, gazing, with thoughts of peace
reflected on faces that had long been unknown to peace.

It was after six when the Emerson car whirled the U. S. C. back to the
Mortons' for a dinner that had to be eaten hastily, for they were due at
the Glen Point orphanage soon after seven so that all might be in order
for the doors to be opened to the children at half past. Helen was
always urging punctuality as Tom was commanding promptness.

"If we were small youngsters and had had to wait all day for our
Christmas party we'd be wild at having it delayed a minute longer than
necessary," the President insisted, and Tom added his usual exhortation,
"Run the thi