"I suppose," said Marjory, doubtfully, "that we ought to do something for the poor, but I don't know where to find any since our washwoman married the butcher." "I'm glad you don't," laughed Henrietta. "I've nine cents left and it's got to last, for I shan't have any more until I get my allowance the first of January, unless somebody sends me money for Christmas." "I guess," giggled Jean, fishing an empty purse from her pocket, "the rest of us couldn't scare up nine cents between us; but I have an uncle who always sends me a paper dollar every year. I've spent it in at least fifty different ways already. I always have lovely times with that dollar _before_ it comes, but it just sort of melts away into nothing afterwards." "I wish," breathed Mabel, fervently, "_I_ had an uncle like that." "Yes," agreed Henrietta, "a few uncles with the paper-dollar habit wouldn't be bad things to have." "I caught a glimpse of your tree, Henrietta," confessed Marjory. "I stood on the balustrade outside and peeked in the window when Jean was inside. It's going to be perfectly grand; but of course I didn't _mean_ to peek. I just got up there because I was too excited to stay on the ground." "So did I," owned Bettie. "I wonder," said Mabel, "where Mr. Black's tree is. We were in all the downstairs rooms and I didn't see a sign of it." "Probably," teased Henrietta, "he's forgotten to order one. Unless one forms the habit very early in life, one is very apt to overlook little things like that." "Mr. Black never forgets," assured Bettie. "Probably it's some place in the yard," ventured Marjory, not guessing how close she came to the truth. "No," declared Mabel, positively. "I looked out the windows and there wasn't a single sign of a tree anywhere. I pretty nearly asked about it, but I wasn't sure that that would be polite." "Don't worry," soothed Jean. "There'll _be_ one if Mr. Black has to plant a seed and grow it over night. He and Mrs. Crane are more excited over Christmas than we are. They can't think of anything else." CHAPTER XXVII A Crowded Day MABEL rose very early indeed on Christmas morning to explore her bulging stocking and to open her packages; but Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were even earlier, and they were delighted to find that the weather had remained mild. Putting on their outside wraps and warm overshoes, the worthy couple went with good-natured Martin and Maggie, the nimble nursery maid, to the garden as soon as it was light. They strung the tall tree from top to bottom with tinsel and glittering Christmas-tree ornaments, the finest that money could buy. Martin and the maid, perched on tall step-ladders, worked enthusiastically. Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane handed up the decorations. The cook, watching them from the basement window, grinned broadly at the sight. "Sure," said she, "'tis a lot of children they are; but 'twould do no harrum if all the wurruld was loike 'em."