Betty expeditiously arranged herself in the pretty light silk frock, and the girls hooked each other up and tied each other’s hair-ribbons, so that when Lisette came to offer her services, they were quite unnecessary. The boys, too, had made good time with their dressing and awaited the girls in the sitting-room. “Oh, I wish we were going to dance!” said Agnes. “But I suppose we couldn’t in a hotel.” “We can dance up here after dinner,” said Jack. “Mother will play for us, I am sure; for see, there’s a piano here!” Though an adopted son, Mrs. McGuire had asked Jack to call her “Mother,” and the boy had been only too glad to do so. “Play for you? Of course I will,” said the lady herself, entering the sitting-room. “And now we will go down to dinner. Lisette will stay here in charge of everything.” Jack sprang to open the door. He held it open till the last of his party went through it, and then he closed it and followed them. Somehow he was again in place to push the elevator bell, and Mrs. McGuire looked at him with pride as she noticed his quiet quickness and graceful ways. Dinner was a delightful experience. Betty was a little bewildered by the array of silver and glass, and Stub frankly inquired which fork to use first, but Jack seemed to know by intuition. “I’d like to live in a place like this always,” said Stub, as he ate his ice-cream. “So wouldn’t I,” said Jack. “A hotel is all very well for a few days, but it isn’t a home.” “That’s so,” agreed Agnes; “I suppose we’d get tired of it if we had it all the time.” “Well, it’s good enough for me,” returned Stub. “When I’m a man, I’m going to live in one. I don’t see many boys here, though,” he added, looking round. “No,” said Mrs. McGuire, smiling; “most boys prefer a home.” And then dinner was over, and they all strolled through the hotel corridor and bought some flowers at the flower-stand, and some illustrated papers at the news-stand, and then went up to their own apartment. Mrs. McGuire played the piano for them, and they danced a little, and then, after some planning for the next day’s entertainment, they all went to rest. The next day was clear and pleasant, and when breakfast was served in their own dining-room, all the party were ready and eagerly awaiting it. “Then it is decided,” said Mrs. McGuire, “that we have our Christmas tree this evening?” “Oh, yes,” said Betty; “Christmas eve is the time for a tree, and to-morrow, on Christmas day, we’ll have our feast, our real Christmas dinner. Don’t you think so, Agnes?” “Yes, indeed. And then the tree can stay here, can’t it, all day to-morrow? I love to look at a Christmas tree.” “So do I,” said Betty. “And as I never had one before, I’ll keep this one as long as I can.” It was less than a year since Betty had inherited her fortune, and before that she had been a poor little waif, without money and without a home.