r an after-gathering," said Miriam to the girls, as
they stood in a group at the head of the stairs.

"Wait until we deposit our spoils and get comfy," said Grace.

Fifteen minutes later the Phi Sigma Taus, with the exception of Marian
Barber, wrapped in kimonos, were monopolizing the floor space around the
big open fireplace in Miriam's room.

"Where's Marian?" asked Grace.

"Gone to bed," answered Eva laconically. "She said she didn't propose to
stay up half the night to gossip."

"The very idea!" exclaimed Jessica. "We never do gossip, but I think she
has furnished plenty of material so far for a gossiping match."

"And it looks as though we were in a fair way to start one, now," said
Anne slyly.

"Anne, you rascal," said Jessica laughing. "I'll acknowledge my sins and
change the subject."

"My presents were all beautiful!" said Miriam Nesbit, who, clad in a
kimono of cream-colored silk bordered with red poppies, her long black
braids hanging far below her waist, looked like a princess of the
Orient.

"And mine," echoed Grace. "The chain Marian gave me is a dear."

She stopped abruptly. A sudden silence had fallen upon the group at her
words. Grace instantly divined that in the minds of her friends there
lurked a secret disapproval of Marian's extravagance in the matter of
gifts.

CHAPTER XII

THE MISTLETOE BOUGH

After breakfast the next morning the judge proposed a sleigh ride, and
soon the entire party were skimming over the ground in two big
old-fashioned sleighs. Though the day was fairly cold, the guests were
too warmly wrapped to pay any attention to the weather, and keenly
enjoyed every moment of the ride.

After lunch a mysterious council took place in the library, and directly
after a visit was made to the attic, Grace having received permission to
rummage there. Later Reddy and Tom Gray were seen staggering down the
stairs under the weight of a huge cedar chest, and later still the girls
hurried down, their arms piled high with costumes of an earlier period.

Christmas dinner was to be a grand affair, and the judge had invited
half a dozen friends of his own age to share "his borrowed children."

The girls had saved their prettiest gowns for the occasion, and the boys
had put on evening dress. The judge viewed them with unmistakable pride
as they stood grouped about the drawing room, awaiting the announcement
of dinner. An almost imperceptible frown gathered between his brows,