Butler who asked nothing,--answered nothing,--welcomed
nothing,--evaded nothing.

"... Yes'm," said Flame.

But it was a very frankly disconsolate little girl who stole late that
night to her Father's study, and perched herself high on the arm of
his chair with her cheek snuggled close to his.

"Of Father-Funny," whispered Flame, "I've got such a queer little
pain."

"A pain?" jerked her Father. "Oh dear me! Where is it? Go and find
your Mother at once!"

"Mother?" frowned Flame. "Oh it isn't that kind of a pain.--It's in my
Christmas. I've got such a sad little pain in my Christmas."

"Oh dear me--dear me!" sighed her Father. Like two people most
precipitously smitten with shyness they sat for a moment staring
blankly around the room at every conceivable object except each
other. Then quite suddenly they looked back at each other and smiled.

"Father," said Flame. "You're not of course a very old man.... But
still you are pretty old, aren't you? You've seen a whole lot of
Christmasses, I mean?"

"Yes," conceded her Father.

From the great clumsy rolling collar of her blanket wrapper Flame's
little face loomed suddenly very pink and earnest.

"But Father," urged Flame. "Did you ever in your whole life spend a
Christmas just exactly the way you wanted to? Honest-to-Santa Claus
now,--did you _ever_?"

"Why--Why, no," admitted her Father after a second's hesitation. "Why
no, I don't believe I ever did." Quite frankly between his brows there
puckered a very black frown. "Now take to-morrow, for instance," he
complained. "I had planned to go fishing through the ice.... After the
morning service, of course,--after we'd had our Christmas dinner,--and
gotten tired of our presents,--every intention in the world I had of
going fishing through the ice.... And now your Uncle Wally has to go
and have a shock! I don't believe it was necessary. He should have
taken extra precautions. The least that delicate relatives can do is
to take extra precautions at holiday time.... Oh, of course your Uncle
Wally has books in his library," he brightened, "very interesting old
books that wouldn't be perfectly seemly for a minister of the Gospel
to have in his own library.... But still it's very disappointing," he
wilted again.

"I agree with you ... utterly, Father-Funny!" said Flame. "But ...
Father," she persisted, "Of all the people you know in the
world,--millions would it be?"

"No, call it thousands" corrected her Father.