"You can't," rejoined his wife. "You'll have to think of something." "Perhaps," suggested the gentleman foolishly, "an angel might be induced to come down from heaven...." But his words were truer than he thought; a figure which had been creeping unobserved down the stairs now stood before them. "Auguste!" gasped Mrs. Livermore, with an almost superstitious start. "Yes, Madame," replied her former servant, while his benignant smile brought reassurance; "it is I. I have taken ze liberty of dropping in to wish Madame a merry Christmas." "Thank Heaven!" cried the Hostess, restraining her impulse to fall upon his neck. "Now you must stay and help us out of our difficulties. You know exactly where all the silver is." "Perfectly," replied the man respectfully, "and it will give me great pleasure to once more serve Madame." "Auguste," said Mr. Livermore, "let bygones be forgotten. Go quickly and set the table, and put on everything to make it look attractive." "Pardon, Monsieur," Auguste protested, "might it not seem out of place to display too much silver at such a simple meal?" "He is right," declared Mrs. Livermore, "Auguste is right. His taste was always perfect--even in champagne." Further discussion was prevented for the time by Selma's appearance at the drawing-room door, convulsed with mirth. Close at her side stood Mr. Mickleworth, also laughing. "Oh, mamma!" cried the daughter of the house, "will you come and see what somebody has sent us as a present? The ugliest thing conceivable, an absolute monstrosity." But the Livermores were thankful for the sofa, and the diversion which it brought. As no one present could possibly have made such a choice, they felt at liberty to abuse it to their hearts' content, and they stood just then in dire need of something to abuse ... until the fishballs filled the atmosphere with welcome fragrance. Later, after Auguste had compounded his celebrated punch, they said some most amusing things about the lounge. "It would make a capital wedding gift," laughed Mr. Livermore, with a sly glance at Mr. Bertram Pease, and Miss McCunn declared that she would die single rather than begin married life in the society of the monstrosity. As time went on the spirit of the joyous season filled the company, and Yule-tide pastimes were suggested. "In my young days," said Mrs. Pease, growing distinctly sporty, "we used to play hide-and-seek all over the old homestead, and whoever found the person hiding was entitled to a kiss." "Capital!" pronounced Doctor Van Cott, debating which of the Misses Mapes a prosperous practitioner would be most fortunate in finding. "Let's play it now," cried Uncle Bertram, knowing quite well whom he himself should seek most diligently.