ry
Alice and Gordon danced around the kitchen.

Keith thought himself too big to betray any joy over a Christmas
dinner, but he whistled while doing the chores until the bare welkin
in the yard rang, and Teddy, in spite of unheard of misdemeanours, was
not collared off into the porch once.

When the young teacher got home from school that evening he found the
yellow house full of all sorts of delectable odours. Miss Cornelia
herself was concocting mince pies after the famous family recipe,
while her ancient and faithful handmaiden, Hannah, was straining into
moulds the cranberry jelly. The open pantry door revealed a tempting
array of Christmas delicacies.

"Did you call and invite the Smithsons up to dinner as I told you?"
asked Miss Cornelia anxiously.

"Yes," was the dreamy response as he glided through the kitchen and
vanished into the hall.

Miss Cornelia crimped the edges of her pies delicately with a relieved
air. "I made certain he'd forget it," she said. "You just have to
watch him as if he were a mere child. Didn't I catch him yesterday
starting off to school in his carpet slippers? And in spite of me he
got away today in that ridiculous summer hat. You'd better set that
jelly in the out-pantry to cool, Hannah; it looks good. We'll give
those poor little Smithsons a feast for once in their lives if they
never get another."

At this juncture the hall door flew open and Mr. Palmer appeared on
the threshold. He seemed considerably agitated and for once his eyes
had lost their look of space-searching.

"Miss Millar, I am afraid I did make a mistake this morning--it has
just dawned on me. I am almost sure that I called at Mrs. Grant's and
invited her and her family instead of the Smithsons. And she said they
would come."

Miss Cornelia's face was a study.

"Mr. Palmer," she said, flourishing her crimping fork tragically, "do
you mean to say you went and invited Linda Grant here tomorrow? Linda
Grant, of all women in this world!"

"I did," said the teacher with penitent wretchedness. "It was very
careless of me--I am very sorry. What can I do? I'll go down and tell
them I made a mistake if you like."

"You can't do that," groaned Miss Cornelia, sitting down and wrinkling
up her forehead in dire perplexity. "It would never do in the world.
For pity's sake, let me think for a minute."

Miss Cornelia did think--to good purpose evidently, for her forehead
smoothed out as her meditations proceeded and he