All the fun and laughter vanished from Patricia's gray eyes. She looked
about the pleasant, homelike room, with its trimmings of evergreen and
holly, and a swift, sharp, realizing sense of what was going on down at
the hotel came to her. For a moment the girl's lips quivered and the
hand that held Tommy's empty stocking trembled. "But, Nell," she said
slowly, "I am sure--oh, I know they would want their children to have
their Christmas. It would be too dreadful, afterwards--if they could
remember nothing but--sadness and--sorrow. O Nell, I wonder if there
were any children hurt?"

"I don't know," Nell answered. "Let's--not talk about it, Patricia.
Shall I put the trumpet in Archibald's stocking?"

"I suppose so, he's larger than Tommy. I don't know what Aunt Julia will
do if he wakes up early and starts to blowing it. Poor Aunt Julia! She's
got a lot of surprises coming her way." Patricia stuffed out the toe of
Lydia's stocking with the regulation nuts and raisins. "There," she
said, a moment later, "I reckon these are ready to hang up again."

They tiptoed upstairs softly; the children were all sleeping quietly,
and even Custard barely opened the corner of one eye at Patricia's
coming.

Custard was having the time of his life. Hitherto, beds had been
strictly forbidden ground with Custard; and just what could have brought
about this most delightful state of affairs was quite beyond his powers
of imagination, but he was wisely wasting no time in idle speculation.

Patricia stroked him a bit dubiously. "I am afraid Aunt Julia will rebel