“Well, that’s what Father Robertson wants him to learn!” they cried in chorus. He nodded doubtfully. “Pity he can’t come in and help,” he suggested, “he’d enjoy this rumpus.” They stared at him in consternation. “Why, Francis Robertson, what are you thinking of? Have Bobbert help on his own tree? Are you crazy?” “I suppose it wouldn’t do,” he admitted, “but you see that’s just what a little fellow likes—all the noise and fuss and running about and the—smells,” he added vaguely. “The smells?” demanded Bobbert’s mother. “The hemlock and the candy and the _new_ smell of all the things,” he persisted. “In short,” said the fat one with the yellow mustache, looking up from a box of many-colored baubles with which he and Aunt Helena were playing in undisguised joy, “just what we like!” “Precisely,” remarked Uncle Frank. “Really,” said Aunt Kate, somewhat stiffly, “if Bobbert and Babe should help about the tree, I can’t quite see whom we’d call in to see it this evening! What are we working so hard for—to please ourselves?” “Oh, no! great heavens, no!” cried Uncle Frank. Bobbert’s father appeared with an armful of steel rails and cross-pieces. “What do you say to this, Robertson?” he called delightedly. “Jove! these are heavy. Three switches to the thing, and you ought to see the engine! There’s a parlor-car, a smoker, and two passengers. See the tender? Jove! I call that pretty good. Ring the bell, Kate. Look at that piston-rod, Frank!” They clustered about him excitedly. “Father sent it round just now. Wouldn’t tell what he paid for the thing. You clamp it down to the carpet—right through it goes. There are forty-two feet of railing—how’s that? Four curves and three switches—regular thing, you know. We’ll put it right through the library, across the hall, and loop it back in front of the conservatory. What do you say?” “Won’t he be delighted!” sighed the aunts. “Can we get it down before evening?” said Bobbert’s mother nervously. “Well, I should say so!” The fat one with the yellow mustache seized an armful of rails and began to study the joinings; Bobbert’s father and Uncle Christopher explained the switch-workings eagerly to each other; and Bobbert’s mother flew about wondering how the rugs could stand it, and picturing Bobbert’s joy as the train puffed out from the base of the tree. “This is great!” Uncle Christopher cried, as the rails went down with wonderful celerity. “Haven’t had such fun in an age! Half the fun’s in getting it ready!” The fat one with the mustache glanced up and caught Uncle Frank’s eye. “Perhaps he’d rather——”