ft the Silvey house noisily.

"Beat you down to John's," Perry shouted as they stood on the front
walk. Away they went, puffing like little steam engines, in the cold
air. A moment later, they stood admiringly in the Fletcher hall.

"Now, isn't our tree bigger'n yours?"

Silvey admitted that it was, thus adding the final restoring touches to
John's complacency. Then they staged an impromptu Punch and Judy show
and played with the other toys until Mrs. Fletcher, beaming in spite of
perspiration, came into the room.

"The turkey's most done, John, so the boys had better go home now. They
can come back at five to see the tree lighted, if they wish."

Would they care to? You just bet they would!

The front door slammed behind them, and John went out to the kitchen to
nibble at bits of celery, sample the cranberry sauce, and in other ways
annoy his busy mother until she turned on him despairingly.

"For heaven's sake, John, go into the parlor and read one of your new
books until dinner's ready if you can't be quiet."

By five in the afternoon, he was so thoroughly surfeited with the
season's delights, that he had barely enough energy to stand in the
window and peer into the lighted area around the street lamp as he
watched for his guests; for to bountiful helpings of turkey, potatoes,
cranberry sauce, dressing, and a quarter of one of his mother's
delicious plum puddings had been added cornucopia after cornucopia of
candy, until his stomach, for once in his life, caused misgivings as to
its food capacity.

Perry Alford came punctual to the minute, and shortly thereafter Red
Brown, Sid DuPree, Silvey, and Skinny Mosher. Mrs. Fletcher had made use
of her telephone to make the gathering a little more of a party for John
than he had anticipated.

Another display of the presents followed, while his father and mother
stood in the parlor doorway and beamed down upon the youngsters. When
the excitement had died away somewhat, Silvey spoke up.

"Let's have a Punch and Judy show now, fellows."

"Come on, dad," added John. "You can do it best."

So for the second time that day, the room formed the theater for that
ancient, comic tragedy. But as the devil popped up on the shaky little
stage to make an end to Punch, there came a cry of protest from the
audience who were squatting breathlessly on the floor.

"Oh, not yet, not yet. Please, not yet."

So Punch triumphed in his fight with the little red-faced imp, and the
p