t with a sigh of relief. "I know
what we can do," said Grace reflectively. "We can get Mr. Symes to go
with us. He is that old man who does errands and takes messages for ever
so many of the girls. We will go with him as far as the corner, then he
can carry the things to the door and give them to the woman who owns the
boarding house. He lives just around the corner from here. You stay here
and watch the bundles and I will see if I can find him."

Grace found Mr. Symes at home and quite willing to carry out the final
detail of the Christmas plan. The old man was duly sworn to secrecy and
entered into the spirit of his errand almost as heartily as did Arline
and Grace. At the chosen corner the girls halted, repeated their final
instructions, and drawing back into the shadow, left him to deliver the
two bulky packages, his wrinkled face wreathed in smiles.

He smiled even more broadly on his return to the watchers, as Grace
slipped a crisp green note into his hand and wished him a Merry
Christmas.

"Now we ought to do a little celebrating on our own account," she
proposed. "Suppose we pay a visit to Vinton's. It isn't too cold for
ices."

"That is just what I was thinking," agreed Arline.

An hour later Arline and Grace said good-bye on the corner below Wayne
Hall. "I won't see you in the morning at the station, Grace," said
Arline regretfully. "My train leaves a whole hour later than yours. I
hope you will have a perfectly lovely Christmas. I hope eight other
girls will, too. Don't you?"

"You're a dear little Daffydowndilly," smiled Grace as she kissed
Arline's upturned face. "I am sure they will, and they have you to thank
for their pleasure, though they will never know it."

CHAPTER XVIII

MRS. GRAY'S CHRISTMAS CHILDREN

"If this isn't like old times, then nothing ever will be!" exclaimed
David Nesbit, beaming on Anne Pierson, who was busy pouring tea for the
"Eight Originals" in Mrs. Gray's comfortable library.

"Old times!" exclaimed Hippy Wingate, accepting his teacup with a
flourish that threatened to send its contents into the lap of Nora
O'Malley, who sat beside him on the big leather davenport. "It takes me
back to the days when I had only to lift my hand and say, 'Table,
prepare thyself,' and some one of these fair damsels immediately invited
me to a banquet. Gone are the days when I waxed fat and prosperous. Now
I am thin and pale, a victim of adversity."

"I think you look stouter than