Curiously enough, it did not occur to one of them that they might slip out quietly, pile into their cars and go speeding back to the city. They had come here with a plan. They were to hang up their stockings, each of them, as if he were once more a small child. They were to stay all night, the ladies sleeping upstairs, the men and boys in two tiny downstairs bedrooms. There was to be joy in the morning and feasting at noonday; a twenty-five pound turkey awaited Madame's skill at stuffing and baking. Who should interfere with these glorious plans? No one, surely! * * * * * * * * In the meantime, Grace Krowl in her parlor in the distant city had received a strange visitor. Hardly had she returned from her little journey dispensing Christmas cheer, when there came a knock at her door. "Who can that be?" Springing up, she threw open the door, and there before her, smiling like some fairy, was a tiny little lady all dressed in furs. "I received your letter." She stepped inside. "I came to see about the little trunk." "But you--you're not Emily Anne!" Grace stared with all her eyes. "Oh, dear, no!" The little lady's laugh was like the jingle of a silver bell. "I am her niece, Miss Baxter. Aunt Emily is dead, I am sorry to say--has been for two years." "Oh!" There was a note of genuine sadness in Grace's voice. "Ex--excuse me!" she apologized. "But I came almost to know her by the lovely things in her trunk." "I am sure you did." The little lady beamed. "She was a choice soul, Aunt Emily Anne! "But tell me--" She dropped into a chair. "Your letter interested me _so_ much. Won't you tell me how you came into possession of this trunk, and how you came to write that wonderful letter?" "Wonderful letter?" the girl thought. "At last one has returned to give thanks. How gorgeous!" She did tell Miss Baxter all she wished to know about the trunk and the letters. "But this Bible?" The little lady's eyes gleamed. "You say it is worth several thousands of dollars?" "I am sure of it." Grace nodded her head. "I've had the signature verified. It is genuine." "Then," said Miss Baxter, "let us form a society, you and I--a 'Society for the Return of Lost and Strayed Trunks.' How does that sound? There is a 'Society for the Return of Lost and Strayed Cats.' Trunks are more important than cats, much more!" "But you are the only one who returned to thank me. Besides," said Grace, "I don't quite understand." "Oh! The plans," the little lady smiled, "we must work them out little by little. We shall sell the Bible. I will add to that fund. This will give us working capital. You shall be the secretary, and do a great deal of the work." "Nothing could be more wonderful," Grace murmured, too overcome for speech. "And now!" Miss Baxter sprang to her feet. "This is Christmas Eve, and I must be on my way. I'll see you again soon!"