"So I am. But I hate to think of all the presents Sylvia's likely to load
us down with. Seems as if she'd done enough. I don't want to be beholden
to her for any more."

"Don't worry, Mary. Sylvia's got good sense, and delicate feelings as
well as an almighty generous little heart. She'll be the first to think
how we'd feel, herself."

Mr. Gray was right. When Christmas came there was a simple, inexpensive
trinket for each of the girls, and slightly costlier ones for the bride
and Mrs. Gray; little pocket calendars, all just alike, for the men; that
was all. Mr. Stevens had taken pleasure in bringing great baskets of
candy, adorned with elaborate bows of ribbon, and bunches of violets as
big as their heads, to all the "children," a fine plant to Mrs. Gray, and
books to Howard and his sons; and Austin's suit-case bulged with all
sorts of little treasures, which tumbled out from between his clothes in
the most unexpected places, as he unpacked it in the living-room, to the
great delight of them all.

"Here's a dress-length of gray silk from Venice for mother," he said,
tossing the shimmering bundle into her lap; "I want her to have it made
up to wear at Sally's wedding. And here's lace for Sadie and Sally
both--the bride and the bride-to-be. Nothing much for the rest of
you"--and out came strings of corals and beads, handkerchiefs and
photographs, silk stockings and filagree work, until the floor was
strewn with pretty things. After all the presents were distributed, it
was time to begin to get dinner, and to decorate the great table laid
for sixteen. There was a turkey, of course, and a huge chicken pie as
well, not to mention mince pies and squash pies and apple pies, a plum