led a little tender smile. "His first Christmas."

The child was finishing.

"And God bless Aura, and Jack, and----"

"And Grandfather Reoh," his mother prompted softly.

"And Grandfather Reoh--and _mamita_, and----" The boy ended with a
rush--"and me too. Amen. Now where do I hang the stocking, mother?"

In a moment the little stocking dangled from a mantel over the
fireplace.

"You are sure he will come?" the child asked anxiously again.

"It is certain, Loto--if you are asleep."

Loto kissed his mother and shook hands solemnly with the men--a grave,
dignified little figure.

"Good night, Loto," said the Big Business Man.

"Good night, sir. Good night, my father--good night, _mamita_; I shall
be asleep very soon." And with a last look at the stocking he ran out of
the room.

"What a Christmas he will have," said the Banker, a little huskily.

A girl stood in the doorway that led into the dining-room adjoining--a
curious-looking girl in a gingham apron and cap. Lylda looked up.

"Oh, Eena, please will you say to Oteo we want the tree from the
wood-shed--in the dining-room."

The little maid hesitated. Her mistress smiled and added a few words in
foreign tongue. The girl disappeared.

"Every window gets a holly wreath," the Doctor said. "They're in a box
outside in the wood-shed."

"Look what I've got," said the Big Business Man, and produced from his
pocket a little folded object which he opened triumphantly into a long
serpent of filigree red paper on a string with little red and green
paper bells hanging from it. "Across the doorway," he added, waving his
hand.

A moment after there came a stamping of feet on the porch outside, and
then the banging of an outer door. A young man and girl burst into the
room, kicking the snow from their feet and laughing. The youth carried
two pairs of ice-skates slung over his shoulder; as he entered the room
he flung them clattering to the floor.

The girl, even at first glance, was extraordinarily pretty. She was
small and very slender of build. She wore stout high-laced tan shoes, a
heavy woollen skirt that fell to her shoe-tops and a short, belted coat,
with a high collar buttoned tight about her throat. She was covered now
with snow. Her face and the locks of hair that strayed from under her
knitted cap were soaking wet.

"He threw me down," she appealed to the others.

"I didn't--she fell."

"You did; into the snow you threw me--off the road." She laug