The Trevors’ programme on Christmas Day differed from those of their friends, and in their opinion many striking advantages. No presents were given in the morning; it was enough excitement to know that it was Christmas Day, and to linger over a late and breakfast before going to church. There was something particularly inspiring about the moment when the great congregation rose in the ivy-decked church and burst into song—  
“Hark, the angels sing,
 
Glory to the new-born King!”
 
Even Jill had a realisation that the true meaning of Christmas was something quite apart from presents, and turkey, and plum-puddings, while Betty’s thoughts flew back to the day of her , and she herself anew to the service of the King. sang the well-known words with a new attention—“Christ the Lord;” this was the same Christ who was General Digby’s “Captain.” “I am here to obey my Captain’s orders,”—the words rang in his ears, and he saw once more the wonderful of the fierce old face. Miles did not sing at all; his voice was still and broken, and his set expression gave little clue to his feelings, but Pam’s treble was clear and sweet, and her little face shone with innocent fervour.
 
After church came a walk through the—well! It should have been “the crisp cold air,” but unfortunately the weather showed no sense of , and in reality it was as dank and cheerless a day as even London itself can produce in mid-winter. As the advance guard in the shape of Miles and Betty neared their own , a dainty figure ran down the steps, and there was Cynthia Alliot, blooming like a delicate pink rose in the midst of the fog.
 
“You!” cried Betty in surprise, and then awkwardly attempted the difficult task of introduction. “Er—this is my brother Miles! Miles—this is—”
 
“The Pet!” interrupted Cynthia, laughing. Miles knit his brows in the fashion he had when ill at ease, and an greeting, but Cynthia was not in the least embarrassed. She smiled at him as as if he had been another Betty, yet with a little air of gracious dignity which is rarely found in girls of her age. She was quite simple and unaffected, but one could never imagine her taking part in the free-and-easy, slangy, unchivalrous which so often prevails nowadays between girls and boys. She held herself like a Queen, and silent Miles looked at her, and in the depths of his honest heart vowed himself to her service.
 
“What did you call for?” Betty . “Did you want to see me? Was it about to-morrow? We are going to call for you at half-past two. We can walk, I suppose, unless it is wet?”
 
“Oh yes, it will be far nicer. I do hope it will be fine. This is not at all a cheerful Christmas, is it? Good-bye! I do hope you’ll have a lovely time!” returned Cynthia, waving her hand and crossing the road towards her own doorway. It was too late to remind her that she had not answered the last question, and the first sight of the hall table every other thought, for on it lay the pile of Christmas cards whose had been so eagerly expected. Betty seized the bundle and began them out, while her brothers and sisters clustered round, and clamoured for their share.
 
“Miss Trevor—Miss Trevor—Miss Trevor—(Betty, it’s not fair, you are taking them all!) Miss Jill Trevor, Miss JM Trevor, Mrs Trevor, James Trevor, Esquire, MD—(Looks like a bill! How mean to send a bill on Christmas day!) Miss Trevor, Miss Pamela Trevor,” so it went on, the major share falling to the three girls, the boys coming in only for an occasional missive from an aunt or some such relation, who suddenly awoke to the fact of their existence at Christmas time. When the cards were dealt out there still remained a little pile of envelopes which had been delivered by hand, as no stamps appeared beside the addresses. Betty on them, and gave a shout of delight.
 
“There’s money inside! There is, I can feel it. Mine’s quite small—like a—a—” She dropped the remaining envelopes to open her own in a flutter of excitement. Inside there was a folded piece of paper enclosing a second envelope—one of those tiny, dainty affairs in which some old-fashioned tradesmen still deliver change to their customers. In her haste Betty ripped it open, and held up to view a brand new sovereign.
 
“It is! It is! How s–imply lovely! I was so hard up—and now! What perfect angel can have sent it?”
 
She picked up the piece of paper which she had dropped in her haste, and read aloud, “With the best wishes of Terence Digby,” the while her brothers and sisters made short work of their own envelopes. Jack and Jill had each a new ten-shilling piece, and Pam a magnificent silver crown, the size of which delighted her even more than the value.
 
“He said he would send me something, but I never thought it would be money. It’s what I like better than anything else, to be rich in the Christmas holidays!” Jill cried rapturously, and Mrs Trevor smiled and said—
 
“So he seemed to think. He asked my permission before sending his presents in this form, and said he would like to give you money, because when he was a boy an old lady used to send new coins to himself and his brothers every Christmas in these same little envelopes, and he had never forgotten the pleasure they gave him. Yes! You will feel rich, but don’t be in too great a hurry to spend your fortunes, for the General may wish to speak to you on that point.”
 
Jill her shoulders disgustedly.
 
“Bother! I hope he won’t want us to spend it sensibly! That would take away all the fun. I want to keep it in my purse, and fritter it away just as I like. What’s the good of giving presents, and not letting you use them as you like?”
 
“Well, well, what’s the use of before you know if there is anything to about?” returned Mrs Trevor, laughing. She moved away, carrying her bundle of letters, and the children followed her example, and spent a happy half-hour examining, displaying, and comparing cards and calendars.
 
Then came lunch, a lunch with “party” sweets, and dessert, finishing up with a big dish of to roast over the fire. The doctor was at home for the afternoon, having made the round of his serious patients in the morning (abominably selfish of anyone to be ill on Christmas Day!), and that fact alone gave a festivity to the afternoon tea, while ever in the background the of presents—presents to come!
 
Other people had done with all their excitement before now, and had even grown accustomed to their new possessions, but Betty and Jill donned last year’s party dresses for dinner in a flutter of anticipation, and then hurried downstairs, each with an armful of parcels to add to the store which had been accumulating in the library all day long.
 
The sofa was full of them—neat brown—paper parcels, bulky parcels, shapeless parcels, tissue-paper parcels, large and small, dainty and the reverse, boxes, envelopes, and a mysterious pyramid covered with a sheet, over which Pam mounted jealous guard. Betty had just time to arrange the parcels on two large trays, and see the larger articles conveyed into the dining-room and hidden behind a screen, before the gong rang, and dinner began.
 
There was the orthodox turkey and roast beef, plum-pudding and mince-pies, but when dessert was over there came a moment of thrilling excitement, as the servants placed one heaped trayful of presents on the table before Dr Trevor, and another at the bottom before his wife. The long-looked-for moment had come at last!
 
Well, it was a pleasant sight to see the twinkle in the doctor’s tired eyes as he looked round the table at his five children, and exchanged a smile of comradeship with his pretty wife. His long delicate hand, the true doctor’s hand, lifted the topmost parcel from the tray, and held it aloft while he read aloud the inscription—“‘To Miles, he will like it, from Pam.’ Here you are, Miles!” and down the table it went, from one eager pair of hands to another, while Pam blushed a vivid red, and bashfully on her chair.
 
There were a great many wrappings, and the dimensions of the parcel diminished so rapidly as to excuse serious fears that it contained nothing more substantial than a joke, but such an idea was an insult to Pam’s . She had much thought on the choice of this special present, and could not in the least understand the roar of laughter which rose from every side as the last paper fell away to disclose a magnificent sixpenny tooth-brush in all its creamy splendour.
 
Miles’ face was a study as he gazed upon it, and turned it to and fro.
 
“Anything personal meant, Pam?” he inquired, and, “Yes, please, Miles!” replied innocent Pam, and blushed again to the of tears at the second shout of merriment.
 
“It’s a very useful present, dear,” Mrs Trevor said consolingly, and hastened to give the conversation a turn by doling out another parcel from her own tray.
 
“‘Betty, with love from Jill.’”
 
It was a very small parcel, and Betty looked at it with suspicion, remembering the sticking-plaster and watered eau de Cologne, but things turned out better than she expected, the enclosure being quite a pretty hat-pin, of a colour to match her best hat.
 
“Just what I wanted!” was both the true and the gracious manner of acknowledging this , as also the book from Jack, and the gloves from Miles, which presently fell to her share. Then it was the doctor’s turn, his wife having behind the screen to bring an enormous parcel, which could only be laid on a chair by his side, since it was far too big to place on the table itself.
 
“For me? Why, what can this be? It feels like a blanket!” he cried in , and his face was a picture of surprise, pleasure, and , as a handsome fur-lined carriage rug was presently revealed to view. “Oh, this is too much! This won’t do! Edith, what reckless extravagance!”
 
“Not extravagance at all,” his wife answered sturdily. “You must be kept warm, driving about from morning till night. It is nothing less than............