“Still are they yet,” she whispered, glancing up at the pictured faces. “But near the hour draws, and hide I must, or they may not come down, for Sophy says that spectators they do not love. Ah, there is just the place!” and running to the linen chest she lifted the lid, and clambering lightly in, nestled down among the lavender-scented sheets and table-cloths. “A very comfortable hiding-spot, truly!” exclaimed Katrina, as she placed a book beneath the cover to hold it slightly open; and so cosey did it prove that she grew a bit drowsy before the midnight bells chimed the knell of another twelvemonth. Then indeed, however, she was on the alert in an instant and peering eagerly out. Her corner was in shadow, but the ruddy glow from the hickory logs revealed the portraits still unmoved, and she was about to utter an exclamation of disappointment, when she was startled to see a door leading to the rear of the house suddenly swing open and the figure of a man carrying a lantern enter with slow and stealthy tread. An old man, apparently, with gray hair and beard, and a sack thrown across his shoulders. “’Tis the Old Year himself!” thought the fanciful girl; but the next moment she almost betrayed herself by a scream as she recognized the beggar to whom she had given her New-Year cake that very afternoon. Slowly the midnight marauder approached, and then, all at once, a wonderful transformation took place. The bent form became straight, the gray beard and hair were torn off, and a younger and not unhandsome man stood before the little watcher’s astonished gaze. She was too dumfounded to do anything but tremble and stare, as the intruder seated himself at the table and ate and drank, almost snatching the viands in his eagerness. His appetite appeased, however, he seemed to hesitate; but then, with a muttered, “Well, what must be must, and here’s for home and Emily!” he seized a silver bowl and dropped it into his bag, following it up with the porringers and plates, that were the very apple of the Dutch house-mother’s eye. Too frightened to speak, poor little Katrina watched these proceedings; but when the thief laid hands on a certain old and beautifully engraved flagon, she murmured: “The loving-cup! the dear loving-cup! Oh, my father’s heart ’twill break to lose that!” “Plenty of the needful here!” chuckled the burglar; but a moment later he had his surprise, for out of the shadows suddenly emerged a small, slight figure, and a stern voice cried, “Stop!” With a startled exclamation the man fell back, and then, as Katrina exclaimed, “The loving-cup that is so old--ah, take not that!” he dropped into a chair, ejaculating, “By St. George, ’tis the little lady of the cake herself!” “That is so,” said Katrina. The man reddened. “Believe me, miss,” he said, “I did not know this was your home, or naught would have tempted me here; and this is the first time I have ever soiled my fingers with such work as this.”