Mrs. Hubblebubble and Mrs. Doubletrouble found they had exposed themselves sadly, and were quite ashamed. A real, genteel, well-bred, enlightened lady of fashion ought to have no rule of conduct, no conscience, but Paris—whatever is fashionable there is genteel—whatever is not fashionable is vulgar. There is no other standard of right, and no other eternal fitness of things. At least so thought Mrs. Hubblebubble and Mrs. Doubletrouble. “But is it possible that all these things are out of fashion abroad?” asked the latter, beseechingly. “They never were in,” said Mrs. Amos Shuttle. “For my part, I mean to close my doors and windows on New Year’s Day—I’m determined.” “And so am I,” said Mrs. Hubblebubble. “And so am I,” said Mrs. Doubletrouble. And it was settled that they should make a combination among themselves and their friends, to put down the ancient and good customs of the city, and abolish the sports and enjoyments of the jolly New Year. The conspirators then separated, each to pursue her diabolical designs against oily cooks, mince-pies, sleigh-ridings, sociable visitings, and family parties. Now the excellent St. Nicholas, who knows well what is going on in every house in the city, though, like a good and honourable saint, he never betrays any family secrets, overheard these wicked women plotting against his favourite anniversary, and he said to himself— “_Vuur en Vlammen!_ but I’ll be even with you, _mein vrouw_.” So he determined he would play these conceited and misled women a trick or two before he had done with them. It was now the first day of the new year, and Mrs. Amos Shuttle, and Mrs. Doubletrouble, and Mrs. Hubblebubble, and all their wicked abettors, had shut up their doors and windows, so that when their old friends called they could not get into their houses. Moreover, they had prepared neither mince-pies, nor oily cooks, nor crullers, nor any of the good things consecrated to St. Nicholas by his pious and well-intentioned votaries, and they were mightily pleased at having been as dull and stupid as owls, while all the rest of the city were as merry as crickets, chirping and frisking in the warm chimney-corner. Little did they think what horrible judgments were impending over them, prepared by the wrath of the excellent St. Nicholas, who was resolved to make an example of them for attempting to introduce their new-fangled corruptions in place of the ancient customs of his favourite city. These wicked women never had another comfortable sleep in their lives!