"Well, then, there's only one thing to do--let's find out what it is."

"You bet we will."

"I wouldn't send no one in there alone," Peck went on, excitedly, "with
a crazy man. Besides, I want to see what's goin' on, myself."--"So do
we!" This was unanimous.

"Then let's see if there ain't some way to do it. Perhaps he ain't
pulled all the shades down on the other side the house. Lots o' people
fergit to do that."

There was but one mind in the party regarding this proposal. The next
minute saw us all cautiously sneaking into the side yard, a ragged line
of bent and flapping figures, black against the snow.

Simeon Peck's expectations were fulfilled--more than fulfilled. Not only
were all the shades of the big, three-faced bay-window of the
"sitting-room" lifted, but (evidently on account of the too great
generosity of a huge log-fire that blazed in the old-fashioned
chimney-place) one of the windows was half-raised as well. Here, in the
shadow just beyond the rosy oblongs of light that fell upon the snow, we
gathered and looked freely within.

Part of the room was clear to our view, though about half of it was shut
off from us by the very king of all Christmas-trees, glittering with
dozens and dozens of candles, sumptuous in silver, sparkling in gold,
and laden with Heaven alone knows how many and what delectable
enticements. Opposite the Tree, his back against the wall, sat old Bob,
clad in a dress of state, part of which consisted of a swallow-tail coat