at this, old fellow; but Archibald's got fast hold of you, and I simply
can't risk waking him up."

"I must go now, Pat," Nell said, as they went downstairs again; "I told
Papa I'd be back soon."

"Somehow," she added, as she and Patricia stood a moment on the front
steps, "I can't make it seem like Christmas eve--not even with your five
stockings, Pat."

Patricia looked out at the white whirl of snow; the street seemed
deserted, but here and there, where a blind had been left undrawn,
a light shone out.

Then, from the house next door, came the sound of a Christmas carol:

"Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King."


Clearly, joyously, through the still, snow-laden air, sounded the
words--

"Risen with healing in His wings,
Light and life to all He brings.
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!"


Patricia drew a long breath. "But it _is_ Christmas eve, Nell. And,