t Robin ought to
have, nevertheless she was a girl like Robin and Christmas was
Christmas. Beryl appreciated the thoughtfulness more than she could
express and when she found a little book entitled "Old Violins" and
_only one_, she hugged it to her with a rush of happy feeling.

Later in the morning Mrs. Granger's chauffeur arrived with a great box
of bon-bons in queer shapes and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had ever
seen anything quite so extravagantly contrived.

"She paid a fortune for _that_," declared Beryl, appraisingly. "She must
have forgiven Susy for spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking of
her son again. Let me read the card. 'Hoping you will coax that nice Mr.
Tubbs to bring you to us before my youngsters go back to school--'
Didn't I tell you, Robin?"

"I won't go," Robin answered briefly, pushing box and card away with a
gesture that disposed of Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim the
tree."

Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the straightest,
princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. Its fragrance penetrated and
filled the old house. The girls went about sniffing joyously, carrying
in their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of bright paper.
Harkness, oddly dishevelled and excited, balanced on a stepladder and
fastened the gay ornaments where Robin directed.

Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christmas tree without the
usual tinsel and glittering baubles. But after Robin and Harkness had
worked for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very Christmasy and
"different."

"You're awfully clever, Robin," she declared, in a tone frankly
grudging. "You make little things count for so much--like mother."

"I think _that's_ a compliment. And speaking of your mother, Beryl
Lynch, we have just time to wash our hands and faces and change our
dresses before she comes. Oh, hasn't this day simply flown? And _hasn't_
it been nice, after all? Isn't Harkness darling--look at him." For
Harkness, his head on one side, a sprig of holly over one ear where
Robin had put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which Robin had
made of bright tissue paper and which he had carefully hung by the
heels.

"That kite looks as real as can be, Missy."

Giggling, the girls rushed away to make ready for what Robin declared
(though she had been much hurt by Dale's refusing to come) the nicest
part of Christmas.

Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with the last touches of the
C