Beatrice and Francis had returned to the holly wreaths. "We shall be sorry to have you go," she said, her eyes on the branches in her lap. "What you said about Cherry Street made me want to cry. I, certainly, in the past, have not been a part of the goodness and brightness and helpfulness. Before you go, let me tell you I am sorry for everything." "And I am glad." He took from her lap as he spoke a bit of the holly and broke it in two. "Keep this," he said, "and I shall keep the other half, 'sweet summer memories to recall,'--till I come again." Christmas eve fell softly upon Cherry Street wrapped in its snowy mantle, with a pale silver moon like a crescent of promise, shining low down in the west. "When I saw it last," said Holly Belle, "it was over my left shoulder, and I thought Miss Billy was goin' to die." "An' I heard the death tick in the wall," said Mrs. Canary, "an' dreampt of white horses three nights hand runnin'. I never knew the signs to fail before." "Signs can't hurt Miss Billy," said Holly Belle with conviction, as she hastened the little Canarys into their holiday attire. "She don't believe in 'em--nor dream books, nor nothin'. An' I ain't a-goin' to after this, neither." "Holly Belle," said Mrs. Canary impressively, "the night yer grandfather died I was a sittin' there by the window----" "I don't care," broke in Holly Belle stoutly: ("Fridoline, hold up yer chin! How can I fasten yer necktie when yer leanin' it down like that!)--I don't care fer all the old signs in the world. Miss Billy don't believe in 'em, an' I ain't a-goin' to, neither." In the Hennesy home, Mr. Hennesy had brought out the ancient coat, and was struggling into one of John Thomas's collars. It was fastened at last, and Mr. Hennesy regarded his appearance in the glass with interest. "All Oi do be nadin'," he commented, "is a check rein from the top av me head to me shoulder blades, to make me be lookin' loike a four-year-old colt. John Thomas, wan av these days whin ye go to bite off a bit av tough mate, ye'll hit on wan av these aidges an' cut yer jugglery vein. Moind now, what O'im sayin'." [Illustration: "All Oi do be nadin'" ... "is a check rein from the top av me head to me shoulder blades."] At Number 12 Cherry Street there was warmth and light and glow. Out in the kitchen the smiling Maggie presided over two boilers of coffee and a table full of iced cakes and confections. As the guests began to arrive the folding doors between the minister's study and the parlour were thrown open, and the Christmas tree, glowing with coloured balls and wax tapers, stood revealed. The Street Improvement Club, to a man, greeted the glittering spectacle with delight, but the ecstasy of some of the younger members became suddenly extinguished in their mothers' skirts at the sudden appearance of an exceedingly corpulent Saint Nicholas in the parlour door.