At mention of it, the tots both looked down at their stockings and were so overcome that they almost stopped working their jaws, so that when they began again they were harder to work than ever. To this James added the terror of their failing to see next day the great plum-pudding suddenly burst into flame in his hands. At this, he threw up both hands and opened them so wide that the little ones had to look first at one of his hands and then at the other to make sure that he was not actually holding the dancing flames now. When they had promised faithfully and with deep awe, crossing their little hearts with smudgy fingers, the butler entrusted them to some one to see to the due performance of their good intention, and he himself sought the cook, who, next to himself, was Livingstone's oldest servant. She was at the moment, with plump arms akimbo on her stout waist, laying down the law of marriage to a group of merry servants as they sorted Christmas wreaths. "Wait till you've known a man twenty years before you marry him, and then you'll never marry him," she said. The point of her advice being that she was past forty and had never married. The butler beckoned her out and confided to her his anxiety. "He is not well," he said gloomily. "I have not see him this a-way in ten years. He is not well." The cook's cheery countenance changed. "But you say he have had no dinner." Her excessive grammar was a reassurance. She turned alertly towards her range. "But he won't have dinner." "What!" The stiffness went out of her form in visible detachments. "Then he air sick!" She made one attempt to help matters. "Can't I make him something nice? Very nice?--And light?" She brightened at the hope. "No, nothink. He will not hear to it." "Then you must have the doctor." She spoke decisively. To this the butler made no reply, at least in words. He stood wrapt in deep abstraction, his face filled with perplexity and gloom, and as the cook watched him anxiously her face too took on gradually the same expression. "I has not see him like this before, not in ten year--not in twelve year. Not since he got that letter from that young lady what--." He stopped and looked at the cook.--"He was hactually hirascible!" "He must be got to bed, poor dear!" said the cook, sympathetically. "And you must get the doctor, and I'll make some good rich broth to have it handy.--And just when we were a-goin' to dress the house and have it so beautiful!" She turned away, her round face full of woe. "Ah! Well!--" The butler tried to find some sentence that might be comforting; but before he could secure one that suited, the door bell rang, and he went to answer it. CHAPTER VI It was Mr. Clark, who as soon as the door was opened stepped within and taking off his hat began to shake the snow from it, even while he greeted James and wished him a merry Christmas.