Didn't I tell you when my father saw you, he'd fix it all right? My father's a magician!"

But d.i.c.ky could not answer. He was gulping furiously to keep back the tears of delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. Billy took everybody's attention away from him by turning an unexpected cartwheel in the middle of the floor.

Finally, Maida announced that it was time for the tree. They formed in line and marched into the shop to a tune that Billy thumped out of the silver-toned old spinet.

I wish you could have heard the things the children said.

The tree went close to the ceiling. Just above it, with arms outstretched, swung a beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from it were all kinds of glittery, quivery, sparkly things in silver and gold. Festooned about it were strings of pop corn and cranberries.

At every branch-tip glistened a long gla.s.s icicle. And the whole thing was ablaze with candles and veiled in a mist of gold and silver.

At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny figures in painted plaster told the whole Christmas Day story from the moment of the first sight of the star by the shepherds who watched their flocks to the arrival, at the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Billy Potter disappeared for a moment and came in, presently, the most chubby and pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, in purple velvet trimmed with ermine, with long white hair and a long white beard.

I can't begin to name to you all the fruits of that magic tree. From Maida, there came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair of canary birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful tools, to d.i.c.ky a little bookcase full of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of sashes and ribbons, to Harold a long train of cars. For Molly, Betsy and the Clark twins came so many gifts that you could hardly count them all-dolls and dolls' wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier doll-furniture. For Tim came a sled and bicycle.

To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from d.i.c.ky, a long necklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, with all her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warm little pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce-he said it had once belonged to another little sick girl who died.

From Billy came a book. Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped when she read "The Crystal Ball," by William Potter, on the cover. But I do not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside she read the printed dedication, "To Petronilla."

From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted on ivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face of which Maida had told them so much. There was the ma.s.s of golden hair which she had described so proudly. There, too, was a heart-shaped pendant of diamonds, suspended from a black velvet ribbon tied close to the white throat.

The children looked at the picture. Then they looked at each other.

But Maida did not notice. She was watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce and Billy and her father opened her gifts to them.

She was afraid they would not understand. "They're to save time, you see, when you want to shave in a hurry," she explained.

"Maida," her father said gravely, "that is a very thoughtful gift.

It's strange when you come to think of it, as busy a man as I am and with all the friends I have, n.o.body has ever thought to give me a safety razor."

"I don't know how I ever managed to get along without one," Dr.

Pierce declared, his curls bobbing.

"As for me-I shall probably save about a third of my income in the future," Billy announced.

All three were so pleased that they laughed for a long time.

"I'm going to give you another Christmas present, Maida," Mr.

Westabrook said suddenly, "I'm going to give us both one-a vacation.

We're going to start for Europe, week after next."

"Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!" Maida said. "Shall we see Venice again? But how can I give up my little shop and my friends?"

"Maida going away!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

"But Mr. Westabrook, isn't Maida coming back again?" Rosie asked.

"How I shall miss her!" Laura chimed in.

"Take my lamb away," Granny wailed. "Sure, she'll be tuk sick in those woild counthries! You'll have to take me wid you, Misther Westabrook-only-only-" She did not finish her sentence but her eyes went anxiously to her daughter's face.

"No, Granny, you're not to go," Mr. Westabrook said decisively; "You're to stay right here with your daughter and her children.

You're all to run the shop and live over it. Maida's old enough and well enough to take care of herself now. And I think she'd better begin to take care of me as well. Don't you think so, Maida?"

"Of course I do, papa. If you need me, I want to."

"Mr. Westabrook," Molly broke into the conversation determinedly, "did you ever give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?"

Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the most amused of his smiles.

"Yes," he said.

"And an automobile?" Tim asked.

Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. "Yes," he said, a little puzzled.

"And did Maida's mother have a gold brush with her initials in diamonds on it?" Rosie asked.

Mr. Westabrook roared. "Yes," he said.

"And have you got twelve peac.o.c.ks, two of them white?" Arthur asked.

"Yes."

"And has Maida a little theater of her own and a doll-house as big as a cottage?" Laura asked.

"Yes."

"And did she have a May-party last year that she invited over four hundred children to?" Harold asked.

"Yes."

"And did you give her her weight in silver dollars once?" Mabel asked.

"Yes."

"And a family of twenty dolls?" Dorothy asked.

"Yes, you shall see all these things when we come back," Mr.

Westabrook promised.

"Then why did she run away?" Betsy asked solemnly.

Everybody laughed.

"I always said Maida was a princess in disguise," d.i.c.ky maintained, "and now I suppose she's going back and be a princess again."

"d.i.c.ky was the first friend I made, papa," Maida said, smiling at her first friend.