"It might have been a trifle longer, but it looks a nice one."

This from Aunt Emma was wonderful praise. "I must go and see about the dinner now, and, Bella, it is time to get ready for church; you'll see that they are all clean and tidy, won't you?"

"Yes," promised Bella; and when presently they all started on their walk no one could have found fault with their appearance, not even Aunt Emma.

The snowflakes had ceased falling now, the sun was shining brilliantly, but a keen little breeze was rustling the dead leaves still clinging to the bushes, and nipping the noses and fingers of those who faced it.

Across the fields sounded the peals of the church bells, and along the roads and lanes came little groups of people stepping out briskly in the frosty air. Every one had a greeting for every one, and almost every face bore a brighter, more friendly look than usual.

The service, with its hymns so heartily sung, was cheerful too, particularly the part that the children loved so much, when carols were sung in place of a sermon. This was a treat they would not have missed for a good deal. They all waited eagerly for their own especial favourites, and when the choir broke out with--

"Once in royal David's city Stood a lowly cattle shed."

Margery looked up at Bella triumphantly. She had her favourite, at any rate, so her anxiety was over.

Charlie's favourite was, 'G.o.d rest you, merry gentlemen,' but he was doomed to disappointment that day; and Tom did not get his--

"The holly and the ivy Now both were full well grown."

Bella had so many favourite carols, she was almost sure of hearing one or the other, and to-day her face lighted up with pleasure when the choir began--

"It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth, With news of joy foretold.

Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, From heaven's all-gracious King, The world in solemn silence lay To hear the angels sing."

As they walked home the air and the words still rang in her head:--

"And ye, beneath life's crushing load, Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the arduous way, With painful steps and slow; Look now! for glad and joyous hours, G.o.d's messengers will bring.

Oh, rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing."

As she sang them her thoughts flew first to her father, and then they travelled back over the past twelve months, and all the trials and changes it had brought to them, and all the good things too. G.o.d had been very, very good to them. He had given them their father back, they had wanted for nothing, and He had enabled them to keep a home for their father to come back to.

It rested with them still to keep a roof to shelter him, to find food and clothing, and everything that was needed, but Bella did not let herself feel afraid.

"I am not going to worry, G.o.d will help us," she thought, with childlike faith in Him. "He has taken care of us so far, and I am sure He will go on taking care of us."

"How quiet you are! What are you thinking of?" cried Margery, tugging at Bella's hand.

"Oh, rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing,"

Sang Bella, softly, as they turned into May Lane, and Tom took up the refrain.

"Look! look! look! There's father, standing at the gate! Oh, do look!"

cried Margery excitedly, and, taking to her heels, she dashed to meet him, followed by the others.

Father had to hear all about the service, and the carols, of course, but before he had heard a half, and admired the new gloves, and shown off his own new m.u.f.fler, Aunt Emma was out, to say he ought not to stand about in the cold, and that dinner would soon be ready, and the children had better come in and get their hats and coats off.

Such a dinner it was, too, and such appet.i.tes they all had. There were two roasted fowls, a piece of bacon, a suet pudding, and potatoes and Brussels sprouts of their own growing; and after that there was Aunt Maggie's Christmas pudding.

"I think it has been a lovely dinner!" said Margery, with a deep sigh of content; "and I s'pect presently I shan't feel as though I had eaten such a 'normous lot. I think I'll be comfor'abler when I don't," and she was surprised that the others all laughed.

They sat a long time over their dinner, talking and enjoying themselves, and the short December daylight was actually beginning to wane before they made a move.

"Now," said Aunt Emma, with a sigh, as she rose, "who is going to help me with the dishes?"

Bella looked at Tom, and Tom at Bella. "Well," said the latter, at last, "I want to help you, but--but Tom and I have a big secret that we want to--to arrange, and we want to be here by ourselves,--except father, of course,--for a bit."

"Is it a nice secret? a real one?" asked Charlie, "a s'prise?"

"Yes, a very nice one."

"We'll help Aunt Emma; come along, Margy."

"I wish I knew what it was," said Margery, still lingering and looking anxiously at Bella. "Shall I know by an' by?"

"Yes, yes," said Bella impatiently; "if you run away you will.

If you don't, you see, we shan't be able to attend to it----"

"Oh!" gasped Margery, and the next moment she had disappeared, and was in the scullery.

Then, for nearly an hour Tom and Bella found so much to do, they scarcely knew what to do first. Their father had to be told all about the secrets, all the treasures had to be brought down from upstairs, the candles fixed in the candlesticks, and the presents arranged on the tree or around it.

They never could have been ready in time, had not their father helped them; and, as it was, darkness had fallen before they had done, and they had to light the lamp. At last everything was really fixed and ready, all but the lighting of the Christmas candles.

"Now," said Bella, "we will put out the lamp, and stir up the fire to make it blaze, for there mustn't be any other light but that and the candles.

Tom, you go out, and see if Aunt Emma and the others are ready. If they are, they must wait till we call, and then we will light the candles at once."

"They are ready," said Tom, returning in a moment; "and you had better hurry, for they won't wait much longer."

One after another the yellow flames gleamed out against the green branches. "You can call them now, Tom," Bella gasped, breathless with excitement and haste.

Tom, only too ready, put his head round the door. "Ahoy there!" he began, at the top of his voice, and almost as if in answer came a knocking at the door.

"That's Aunt Maggie and Mrs. Twining," whispered Bella; "that's nice, now they'll be able to see the tree too!"

Tom ran out and opened the front door quickly, for it was not the weather in which to keep people waiting, and so it happened that the little group from the door and the little group from the scullery met in the pa.s.sage, and entered the room together.

"Oh-h-h!" squealed Margery.

"I say!" cried Charlie.

"Well, I never! And to think that at my age I should see a Christmas-tree for the first time!" exclaimed old Mrs. Twining. "It makes me sad to think of what I've missed!"

"However did you manage it? and where did you get all the things?" cried Aunt Emma, amazed, for she had no suspicion of what was going on.

For a while all was chatter and admiration and excitement, the elder ones content to gaze and admire only, the younger ones eyeing the parcels with eager, inquisitive eyes.

"Whatever can be inside them all?" gasped Margery. "Oh, I don't know how to wait until I know!" and Margery was not the only one who felt like that. Indeed, to keep them waiting long was more than Bella or Tom could do, and very soon the parcels were being handed round.

That was a glorious moment for them all, but especially for Bella; she alone knew all the secrets the tree held, and to whom each parcel belonged, and she was pleased and proud, excited and nervous, but supremely happy, all at the same time. There was something for every one, even for old Mrs. Twining, for, when Bella realised that she would be there, and heard how much she loved flowers, she had brought in one of her precious pots of Roman hyacinths for her, and placed it under the boughs of the tree in readiness for the old lady.

"I s'pose I ought to keep it for market," she had sighed, as she picked out the nicest she could see. But no price that could have been paid for it could have been half as precious as the overwhelming delight of the poor lonely old woman, and her joyful thanks.