VI. TO REVITALIZE THE FESTIVAL
VII. THE GIFT OF ONESELF
VIII. THE FEAST OF ST. FRIEND
IX. THE REACTION
X. ON THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR





ONE

THE FACT


Something has happened to Christmas, or to our hearts; or to both. In
order to be convinced of this it is only necessary to compare the
present with the past. In the old days of not so long ago the festival
began to excite us in November. For weeks the house rustled with
charming and thrilling secrets, and with the furtive noises of paper
parcels being wrapped and unwrapped; the house was a whispering gallery.
The tension of expectancy increased to such a point that there was a
positive danger of the cord snapping before it ought to snap. On the
Eve we went to bed with no hope of settled sleep. We knew that we should
be wakened and kept awake by the waits singing in the cold; and we were
glad to be kept awake so. On the supreme day we came downstairs hiding
delicious yawns, and cordially pretending that we had never been more
fit. The day was different from other days; it had a unique romantic
quality, tonic, curative of all ills. On that day even the tooth-ache
vanished, retiring far into the wilderness with the spiteful word, the