During the week that intervened before Christmas, Shirley’s head was so full of her schemes that for the first time since her initiation into office work she had considerable difficulty in keeping her mind upon her tasks. Christmas fell upon a Tuesday that year, fortunately for her plans, so after Saturday noon she was free to give her mind to the pleasures in prospect. Mrs. Bell and Nancy had agreed enthusiastically to every detail of the arrangements, and Grandfather Bell, when cautiously consulted over the telephone and urged to keep it all a secret from his wife, had responded as joyously as a boy that the party might occupy every nook and corner of the house and have things all their own way, if they would only come. It proved necessary to let somebody into the plan at the last, in order that the men, returning to their homes on Monday evening, should be directed what to do. Rufus was selected for this office, an appointment which tickled him so that it was with difficulty he kept from bursting out with his secret. At night he was first at home, and as the others one by one arrived, he haled them to their rooms, bade them make themselves ready in short order, and surreptitiously packed away several travelling bags in the recesses of Grandfather Bell’s capacious market-wagon, now on runners and fitted with seats. "What on earth does it all mean?" asked Murray, taking his seat in the sleigh in which the energetic Rufus had stowed the male members of his own family, amidst a storm of questions and surmises, accompanied by much good humoured raillery at his own quite evident excitement. "It means that you ’re kidnapped, and may never see home again," responded Rufus, tucking a hot soapstone under his father’s feet, for the night was sharp, and Shirley’s orders imperative. "Warm, daddy? Want an extra rug over you? I ’ve enough here to wrap up a party of elephants." "I’m very comfortable," Mr. Bell replied. His shoulder rested against Peter’s, and Peter’s arm lay along the low back of the seat behind him. Mr. Bell always felt a comfortable sense of support and protection when Peter was near--and Peter generally was near in these days. The elder man well understood why, and appreciated the devotion which showed itself in acts rather than in words. "I’ve only one objection to make," declared Ross, as the sleigh moved briskly off, driven by Grandfather Bell’s next neighbour, a man who did odd jobs for him when needed, and worked for him steadily during the summers. "I ’m hungry as a bear, and don’t want to go more than fifty miles to supper." "It would pay you to go a hundred, judging by my observations," asserted Rufus, from among the fur robes at Ross’s feet. "And we ’ll be there in a jiffy. Don’t these boys go, though? They must get fed plenty of oats." "They certainly do," agreed the driver. "Elihu Bell is n’t the man to starve his horses, let alone humans."