the Doctor cleared his throat; and as the leaping flames from the
snapdragon bowl flashed weirdly over the bizarre company in the shadows.
Roger, eagerly watching them snatch the raisins from the fire, fell to
trembling in an ecstasy of delight. Presently a slender arm in a crimson
sleeve, whose wearer was never very far from Roger's chair, slipped
quietly about his shoulders and held him very tight. So, an endless
round of merry Christmas games until, deep and mellow came at last the
majestic boom of the grandfather's clock striking twelve and with it a
hearty babel of Christmas greetings as the Doctor, smiling significantly
down into Roger's excited eyes, gave the signal to unmask.

By the fire a mysterious little knot of guests had been silently
gathering, and now as Aunt Ellen Leslie removed her mask, hand and mask
halted in mid-air as if fixed by the stare of Medusa, and the face above
the brown-gold brocade flamed crimson. For here in Puritan garb was John
Leslie, Jr., and his radiant wife--and Philip and Howard, smiling
Quakers, and Anne and Margaret and Ellen with a trio of husbands, and
beyond a laughing jester in cap and bells, whose dark, handsome face was
a little too reckless and tired about the eyes, Roger thought, for a
really happy Christmas guest--young Doctor Ralph.

As Aunt Ellen's startled eyes swept slowly from the smiling faces of her
children to the proud and chuckling Doctor who had spent Heaven knows
how many dollars in telegraphed commands--she laughed a little and cried
a little and then mingled the two so queerly that she needs must wipe
her eyes and catch at Roger's chair for support, whereupon a kindly
little hand slipped suddenly into hers and Roger looked up and smiled
serenely.

"Don't cry, Aunt Ellen!" he begged shyly. "I knew all about it too and