wish I could stay. But Uncle and Aunt are so--I am afraid of what they
might do to us all. If they thought you wanted me, they would not let me
go."

"I will fix Uncle and Aunt," said Tom, going for his coat. "Leave them to
me. I know an argument that settles uncles and aunts of that sort. You need
not go back to their house, I promise you, Mary, my dear."

Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad!" she said. "It was
such a wicked house. And here it is so good!"

"Good!" Miss Terry echoed the word with a sigh. "Come with me, Mary," she
said.

She led her little guest through the hall to the library, where a great
fire was blazing, with sundry mysterious packages in white paper piled on
the table beside it. But Miss Terry did not stop at the fire-place. She
drew Mary to the window which looked out on the sidewalk. Above the lower
sash Mary saw the remains of a burned-out Christmas candle; and over it
hung a pink papier-mâché Angel stretching out open arms towards her.

"This is the Christmas Angel, Mary," said Miss Terry. "He is as old as
Miranda--"

"He is as old as Christmas," interrupted Tom, looking in from the hall.

"When we were children, Tom and I, we hung him on our Christmas tree," went
on Miss Terry. "We think he brought you to us. We believe he has changed
the world for us,--has brought us peace, good-will, and happiness. He is
going to be the guardian angel of our house. You must love him, Mary."