"Good-morning, William," he said, "and a happy Christmas, and I hope
it's not too much to ask of you that on this relation-infested day
one's feelings may be harrowed by you as little as possible. And why
the deu--dickens they think it necessary to wash the hall floor before
breakfast, Heaven only knows!"

William coughed, a cough meant to be a polite mixture of greeting and
deference. William's face was a study in holy innocence. His father
glanced at him suspiciously. There were certain expressions of
William's that he distrusted.

William entered the dining-room morosely. Jimmy's sister Barbara--a
small bundle of curls and white frills--was already beginning her
porridge.

"Goo' mornin'," she said, politely, "did you hear me cleanin' my
teef?"

He crushed her with a glance.

He sat eating in silence till everyone had come down, and Aunts Jane,
Evangeline, and Lucy were consuming porridge with that mixture of
festivity and solemnity that they felt the occasion demanded.

Then Jimmy entered, radiant, with a tin in his hand.

"Got presents," he said, proudly. "Got presents, lots of presents."

He deposited on Barbara's plate a worm which Barbara promptly threw at
his face. Jimmy looked at her reproachfully and proceeded to Aunt