so it was sweet Christmas music that they made. They sang many of the old
English carols, for the children had sung them every Christmas eve since
they were old enough, and they knew them well.

Grandma loved to hear the music, and after it was over the three children
were kindly but firmly requested to retire.

"We hate awfully to have you go, dear friends," said Mr. Maynard. "We
shall be desolate, indeed, without your merry faces, but the time is
ripe. It's nine o'clock, and Christmas morning comes apace. So flee,
skip, skiddoo, vamoose, and exit! Hang up your stockings, and _perhaps_
Santa Claus may observe them. But hasten, for I daresay he's already on
his rounds."

Laughing at their father's nonsense, the children rather reluctantly
backed out of the room and dawdled upstairs.

But there was still the fun of hanging up their stockings, and then,
after that nothing more but to hurry to get to sleep that Christmas might
come sooner.

Rosy Posy's tiny socks were already in place, and soon three more pairs
of long, lank stockings were dangling emptily, and then, in a jiffy the
Maynard children were all asleep, and Christmas Day was silently drawing
nearer and nearer.




CHAPTER III