"Quite right, quite right! Always expect the best, and prepare for the worst," cried the General heartily. "Now, I've a suggestion to make! There's a big concert advertised to take place in the Albert Hall on the afternoon of Boxing Day. Some friends of mine who are wandering abroad have a box there which is at my disposal when I choose to use it. I'm not going with you, mind--none of your governesses for me!--but I'll give you the tickets, and you can make up a happy party, and get rid of some of your responsibilities, at least. How does that idea strike you, Miss Betty--eh, what?" "Oh, I--I love it! You _are_ sweet!" gushed Betty fervently. A box! The Albert Hall! Herself the head of the party, the gracious dispenser of favours--it was almost too ecstatic to be believed! "The two governesses, Cynthia and myself, Miles, because he loves music, and we want someone to bring us home, and father, if he has time, for Miles won't come if he is the only male. That would be a delightful party!" she decided. There were points, after all, about being left "in charge?" CHAPTER FOURTEEN. CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. The Trevors' programme on Christmas Day differed from those of their friends, and possessed in their opinion many striking advantages. No presents were given in the morning; it was enough excitement to know that it was Christmas Day, and to linger over a late and luxurious breakfast before going to church. There was something particularly inspiring about the moment when the great congregation rose in the ivy- decked church and burst into song-- "Hark, the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King!" Even Jill had a fleeting realisation that the true meaning of Christmas was something quite apart from presents, and turkey, and plum-puddings, while Betty's thoughts flew back to the day of her confirmation, and she vowed herself anew to the service of the King. Jack sang the well-known words with a new attention--"Christ the everlasting Lord;" this was the same Christ who was General Digby's "Captain." "I am here to obey my Captain's orders,"--the words rang in his ears, and he saw once more the wonderful softening of the fierce old face. Miles did not sing at all; his voice was still hoarse and broken, and his set expression gave little clue to his feelings, but Pam's treble was clear and sweet, and her little face shone with innocent fervour. After church came a walk through the--well! It should have been "the crisp cold air," but unfortunately the weather showed no sense of propriety, and in reality it was as dank and cheerless a day as even London itself can produce in mid-winter. As the advance guard in the shape of Miles and Betty neared their own doorway, a dainty figure ran down the steps, and there was Cynthia Alliot, blooming like a delicate pink rose in the midst of the fog.