“I am Frau Santa Claus, you are Christmas spirits; we shall see Herr Santa Claus a little later,” said Mrs. Cortlandt. “As to the programme--I don’t know, precisely. You must each do all that you can to be jolly and to entertain, and we’ll trust to inspiration for the way as we go along. I think Christmas hymns first, however. I am having the children ushered into the music room now. Mr. Leonard is here to help us. He will announce the programme and lead the singing. Hark!” From below came the sound of feet scuffling and trying to march to the strains of an orchestra. The children were all assembled and were going in to behold the tree. “Orchestra, mama?” asked Natalie, for this was a further surprise. “A small one. I thought at the last moment how much it would add to the pleasure of those poor little souls,” whispered her mother. “Now we must go down.” She led the way in her snowy raiment to the music room and her attendant Christmas spirits followed her, in single file, to spread out the little procession as long as possible. The music came up to meet them, the old Christmas hymns played perfectly by a famous little orchestra. Beth was deeply impressed and much moved; it seemed to her like all her dreams of Christmas, all the romance of olden time with which her little brain was well stored, made visible and audible. “Mrs. Santa Claus and her four Christmas fairies are coming, children!” Mr. Leonard called, making himself heard above the music. And Mrs. Cortlandt and the children came in. The music room was nearly filled. The servants of the Cortlandt household were gathered there; Tim and his family had come in good time, thanks to Léon Charette and the car. There were a few of Mrs. Cortlandt’s intimate friends, who had begged to be allowed to see the fun, and Natalie, Alys and Dirk had invited a few of their favorite friends. For the rest the room held only the poor whom Beth and Anna Mary had searched out, except Liebchen, who stood--_stood_, if you please!--having the best time of any one, no longer a cripple, but a sound, healthy, joyous child, forever cured! The faces of the children of the tenements were a study. Wide-eyed, half-frightened, wholly bewildered, they clutched one another, listening, looking, not understanding, but entirely sure that nothing half as blissful as this night had ever crossed the bare fields of their brief experiences. Slowly Aunt Alida led her four beautiful followers into the room, herself a vision of beauty. Awe fell upon the poor children and there was a sound as if they all drew in a long breath together. The tree blazed with a hundred electric lights, in small bulbs safely nestling amid its green needles and its shining ornaments. Beth had not realized when she was helping trim it how glorious it would be. Its slender top reached high up into the vaulted ceiling. An angel, poised above it, seemed to have called it up into being with his outstretched hands.