It was a time never to be forgotten by either Frank Marion or Lee. They lay awake till long after midnight, too happy even to think of sleep. CHAPTER XIV. HERZENRUHE. A STORY has come down to us of a cricket that, hidden away in an old oak chest, found its way to the New World in the hold of the Mayflower. When night came, and the strange loneliness of those winter wilds made the bravest heart appalled; when little children held with homesick longing to their mother's hands, and talked of England's bonny hedgerows, then the brave little cricket came out on the hearthstone; and its familiar chirp, bringing back the cheer of the happy past, comforted the children, and sang new hopes into the hearts of their elders. With every vessel that has touched the New World's shores since that time have come these fireside voices. Whether stowed away in the ample chests of the first Virginians, or bound in the bundles of the last steerage passengers just landed at Castle Garden, some quaint custom of a distant Fatherland has always folded its wings, ready to chirp on the new hearthstone, the familiar even-song of the old. That is how the American celebration of Christmas has become so cosmopolitan in its character. It is a chorus of all the customs that, cricket-like, have journeyed to us, each with its song of an "auld lang syne." "I should like to have a little of everything this year," remarked Miss Caroline, as, pencil in hand, she prepared to make a long memorandum. It was two weeks before Christmas, and she had called a family council in her room, after Jack had gone to bed. Mrs. Marion and Lois were there, busily embroidering. "It is the first time we have had a home of our own for so many years, or been where there is a child in the family," added Miss Harriet, "that we ought to make quite an occasion of it." "Now, my idea," remarked Miss Caroline, "is to begin back with the mistletoe of the Druids, and then the holly and plum-pudding of old England. I'm sorry we can't have the Yule log and the wassail-bowl and the dear little Christmas waits. It must have been so lovely. But we can have a tree Christmas eve, with all the beautiful German customs that go with it. Jack must hang up his stocking by the chimney, whether he believes in Santa Claus or not. Then we must read up all the Scandinavian and Dutch and Flemish customs, and observe just as many as we can." "And all this just for Jack and Lee," said Mrs. Marion, thoughtfully. "Bless you, no," exclaimed Miss Caroline. "Jack is going to invite ten poor children that the Junior Mercy and Help Department have reported. He is so grateful for being able to walk a little, that he wants to give up his whole Christmas to them." "What do you want me to do?" asked Lois. "I'm through with my last present now, and am ready for anything, from serving a dinner to the slums to playing a bagpipe for its entertainment."