"Then have it Christmas evening. Why not? The day isn't over. Nobody knows what to do Christmas evening--except go to dances--and there's never a dance in North Estabrook. Whom can we get to lead it? Well----" Nan paused, thinking it out. Her eyes roamed from Sam's to her fathers, and from there on around the circle, while they all waited for her to have an inspiration. Nobody else had one. Presently, as they expected--for Nan was a resourceful young person--her face lighted up again. She gazed at Margaret, smiling, and her idea seemed to communicate itself to Guy's wife. Together they cried, in one breath: "Billy!" "Billy! Whoop-ee!" Guy threw back his head and roared with delight at the notion. "The Reverend Billy, of St. Johns, coming up to North Estabrook to take charge of a Christmas-evening service! Why, Billy'll be dining in purple and fine linen at the home of one of his millionaire parishioners--the Edgecombs', most likely. I think they adore him most. _Billy!_ --Why don't you ask the Bishop himself?" Margaret flushed brightly. The Reverend William Sewall was her brother. He might be the very manly and dignified young rector of a fashionable city church, but no man who answers to the name of Billy in his own family can be a really formidable personage, and he and his sister Margaret were undeniably great chums. "Of course Billy would," cried Margaret. "You know perfectly well he would, Guy, dear. He doesn't care a straw about millionaires' dinners--he'd rather have an evening with his newsboys' club, any time. He has his own service Christmas morning, of course, but in the evening--He could come up on the afternoon train--he'd love to. Why, Billy's a bachelor--he's nothing in the world to keep him. I'll telephone him, first thing in the morning." From this point on there was no lack of enthusiasm. If Billy Sewall was coming to North Estabrook, as Sam Burnett remarked, it was time to get interested--and busy. They discussed everything, excitement mounting--the music, the trimming of the church--then, more prosaically, the cleaning and warming and lighting of it. Finally, the making known to North Estabrook the news of the coming event--for nothing less than an event it was sure to be to North Estabrook. "Put a notice in the post office," advised Guy, comfortably crossing his legs and grinning at his father, "and tell Aunt Eliza and Miss Jane Pollock, and the thing is done. Sam, I think I see you spending the next two days at the top of ladders, hanging greens. I have a dim and hazy vision of you on your knees before that stove that always used to smoke when the wind was east--the one in the left corner--praying to it to quit fussing and draw. A nice, restful Christmas vacation you'll have!" Sam Burnett looked at his wife. "She's captain," said he. "If she wants to play with the old meeting-house, play she shall--so long as she doesn't ask me to preach the sermon."