The idea of amusing children rather frightened Ruth, but she was relieved when Angela took them to see the tree. It had all been very nicely arranged with enough mechanical amusement to relieve her of any very great responsibility. The tree—a very big one—was in a large room from which most of the furniture, except a few chairs, had been thoughtfully removed. Aside from the candles and tinsel ornaments there were dozens of small gifts, of little value, but suitable almost for any child, together with the usual “Christian sweets,” as Terry called them, which Ruth remembered to have received herself from Church Christmas trees, and to have seen nowhere else at any time. Then there was to be tea with lots of cakes and chocolate and nuts and fruit, and altogether Ruth could see that there would not be more than one torturing hour in which she would have to “amuse the children.” Besides they would probably amuse themselves. “Why not teach them poetry games?” suggested Miss Gilchrist, “those lovely things of Vachel Lindsay’s, where the poetry is interpreted by motion—” “Better let them play games they know,” said Angela. “They only have an hour or two, and there won’t be time to teach them anything new.” “Oh, very well. I was only suggesting; of course if you prefer the old-fashioned, undirected play—but it seemed to me a splendid opportunity to bring beauty into the lives of children who might never have another opportunity of studying it. I have gone in for child study, you know, quite deeply; I may say that child culture is my—” Ruth feared that she was going to say it was her chief métier, but Angela interrupted with: “I think I’ll have some little tables brought in for the tea. Children are so awkward about cups and things, and perhaps they’ll feel less shy if they’re all sitting together round a table.” Though her ideas about modern child culture seemed to meet with so little approval, Miss Gilchrist did not absent herself from the party. She was with Ruth and Terry and Mr. and Mrs. Peyton-Russell while they watched the arrival of the sleigh load of shouting children. Prince Aglipogue was, of course, far too dignified to take any interest and Gloria had absented herself since breakfast as if she feared that she would have to meet Pendragon again.