ing to itself from the radiator; and that the window was gray; and
in the dim light he could see a dark irregular, humpy stocking depending
from the foot of his bed. He had slept. It was Christmas morning.

Bobby, broad awake with the shock of the discovery, crept hastily down,
untied the bulging stocking and crawled back to his warm nest. It was
yet too dark to see; but he cuddled it to him, and felt of it all over,
and enjoyed the warmth of his bed in contrast to that momentary
emergence into the outer cold.

Shortly the light strengthened, however, and the room turned warmer.
Bobby reached for his dressing gown.

From the top of the stocking projected two fat, red and white striped
candy canes with curved ends. These, of course, Bobby drew out carefully
and laid aside. He knew by former experiences that one was flavoured
with wintergreen, the other with peppermint. They were not to be sampled
"between meals." Next came something hard and very cold. Bobby dragged
forth a pair of skates. They were shining and beautiful, and when Bobby,
with the knowledge of the expert, went hastily into details, he found
them all heart could wish for. No effeminate straps about these! but
toe-clamps to tighten with a key and a projecting heel lock to insert in
a metal socket in the boot's heel. This was the _piece de resistance_ of
the stocking. Bobby felt perfunctorily along the outside to assure
himself that the usual two oranges and the dollar in the toe were in
place; then returned to gloat over his skates. He wanted to use them
that very day; but realized the heel plates must be fitted to his boots
first. After a few moments he stuffed the skates back into the stocking,
put on his bedroom knit slippers, and stole shivering down the steep,
creaking stairs. The door to his parents' room stood slightly ajar. He
pushed it open cautiously and peered in. The blinds were drawn, and the
room was very dim, so Bobby could make out only the dark shape of the
great four-poster bed, and could not tell whether or not his father and
mother still slept. For a long time he hesitated, shifting uneasily from
one foot to the other. Then he ventured, only just above a whisper.

"Merry Christmas!" said he, a little breathlessly.

But instantly he was reassured. There came a stir of bed-clothes from
the four-poster.

"Merry Christmas, dear!" answered Mrs. Orde.

"Merry Christmas! Caught us, you little rascal, didn't you?" came in his
father's voi