"Well, once upon a time, there was a tree in a great house by a great river, and it was set in a great room with squares of black-and-white marble for a floor, and with a fountain with goldfish swimming in its basin, and there were red-and-blue parrots on perches, and orange-trees in porcelain pots, and the tree itself wasn't a pine-tree or a fir or a cedar; it was a queer round, clipped thing of yew, and it had red and blue and orange balls on it, and in the place of a wax angel on top there was a golden Buddha, and there were no candles--but the light shone out and out of it, like the light shines from the moon." "Was it a Christmas tree?" Pussy asked, as he paused. "Yes, but the people who trimmed it and the ones who came to see it didn't believe in the Wise Men, or the Babe in the Manger, or the shepherds who watched their flocks by night--they just worshiped beauty and art--and other gods--but it was a corking tree--" "You use such funny words," Pussy crowed ecstatically. "Who ever heard of a corking tree?" He smiled at her indulgently. He was warmer now, and as he leaned back in his chair and unbuttoned his coat he seemed to melt suddenly into something that was quite gentlemanly in pose and outline. "Well, it really was a corking tree, Pussy." "What's a Buddha?" Milly asked, making a young Madonna of herself as she bent over the baby. "A gentle god that half of the world worships," Ostrander said, "but the people who put him on the tree didn't worship anything--they put him there because he was of gold and ivory and was a lovely thing to look at--" "Oh," said Pussy, with her mouth round to say it, "oh, how funny you talk, Mr. Tony!" She laughed, with her small hands beating her knees. She was presently, however, very serious, as she set the table. There was little formality of service. Just three plates and some bread. Milly, having carried the baby into the other room, was hesitatingly hospitable. "Won't you have supper with us, Mr. Tony?" He wanted it. There was a savory smell as Milly lifted the pot from the stove. But he knew there would be only three potatoes--one for Pussy and one for Milly and one for the mother who was almost due, and there would be plenty of gravy. How queer it seemed that his mind should dwell on gravy! "Onions are so high," Milly had said, as she stirred it. "I had to put in just a very little piece." He declined hastily and got away. In the hall he met their mother coming in. She was a busy little mother, and she did not approve of Ostrander. She did not approve of any human being who would not work. "A merry Christmas," he said to her, standing somewhat wistfully above her on the stairs. She smiled at that. "Oh, Mr. Tony, Mr. Tony, they want a man in the shop. It would be a good way to begin the New Year." "Dear lady, I have never worked in a shop--and they wouldn't want me after the first minute--" Her puzzled eyes studied him. "Why wouldn't they want you?" "I am not--dependable--"