It was Holy Eve, the one night in all the year when services are held by candle-light, and the myriad wax candles, burning on the altar, threw a soft and mysterious light over the spruce and laurel boughs decorating the chancel. The light snowfall had become a blinding snow storm before the little procession of sleighs had finally reached home, where the great dinner of the year was awaiting them, with its roast goose, stuffed with prunes and chestnuts, its cinnamon-flavored rice pudding, and a famous Danish dessert called _Röd Gröd_, the repast ending with nuts, Christmas cakes, candy and hot tea. Low over the table, illumined with a dozen tiny, candle-lighted Christmas trees, hung green festoons of laurel and spruce with a secreted sprig of mistletoe; while at every one's place were little mementoes, stuffed Nixies, snappers, and a small Danish flag,--except at Uncle Oscar's, Aunt Amalia's and Karl's places, where the Stars and Stripes were thoughtfully combined with the _Dannebrog_. Towards the end of the dinner Grandfather Ingemann arose and proposed a toast to "our Danish-American guests,"--whereupon all arose, touched glasses and drank, uttering the word for health, "_Skaal!_" Again, Grandfather Ingemann proposed the healths of "Our illustrious Court Painter and his talented little pupil,"--when all again arose with their host, and the process was repeated. The last toast was "for our absent friends," after which Grandfather made a complimentary little speech, wishing every one joy in the years to come. Then all withdrew to the drawing-room, where the lights suddenly went out, and the folding-doors of an adjoining room were flung wide, where, in dazzling beauty, its topmost boughs brushing the rafters, stood the great Jule-tree. Then every one formed a circle around the tree, and Grandfather distributed a basket of hymn books, from which all joined in singing that beautiful old Danish carol, "A Child is Born in Bethlehem." Then, to the soft notes of a violin, all joined hands again, and slowly danced around the tree, singing as they danced another beautiful old carol. The servants were then called in, and Grandfather Ingemann called off the names, and distributed the presents. There were so many gifts for every one, from little Karen up to Grandfather Ingemann himself, that the floor was soon covered deep with the tissue-paper wrappings. When the laughter and merrymaking had reached its height, there came a sharp ring at the door-bell, so sharp that every one paused in strange expectation, and little Karen rushed to the door after the maid. In the fast-falling snow stood a tall man in a green uniform and a three-cornered hat, who handed a great white envelope to the servant, with the words: "To Valdemar Ingemann, from his Majesty, King Frederik," then quickly departed.