e burning low (they only just last an hour) and
we thought it was time for cakes and wine. We asked the children if they
were pleased, also if each child had garment, toy, and "dragees," and to
hold them up. There was a great scamper to the mothers to get the
clothes, and then all the arms went up with their precious load.

The school-children passed first into the outer room, where the keepers'
wives and our maids were presiding over two great bowls of hot wine
(with a great deal of water, naturally) and a large tray filled with
brioches. When each child had had a drink and a cake they went out, to
make room for the outsiders and old people. Henrietta and Pauline
distributed the "extras"; I think there were about twenty in all,
counting the babies in arms--also, of course, the girls from La Ferte
who had come over with the Sisters to sing. I talked to some of the old
people. There was one poor old woman--looked a hundred--still gazing
spellbound at the Tree with the candles dying out, and most of the
ornaments taken off. As I came up to her she said: "Je suis bien
vieille, mais je n'aurais jamais cru voir quelque chose de si beau! Il
me semble que le ciel est ouvert"--poor old thing! I am so glad I wasn't
sensible, and decided to give them something pretty to look at and think
about. There was wine and cakes for all, and then came the closing
ceremony.

We (the quality) adjourned to the sitting-room of the school-mistress
(where there were red arm-chairs and a piano), who produced a bottle of
better wine, and then we "trinqued" (touched glasses) with the Mayor,
who thanked us in the name of the commune for the beautiful fete we had
made for them. I answered briefly that I was quite happy to see them so
happy, and then we all made a rush for wraps and carriages.

The Abbe came back to the chateau to dine, but he couldn't get away
until he had seen his Sisters and harmonium packed safely into the big
omnibus and started for La Ferte. It looked so pretty all the way home.
It was quite dark, and the various groups were struggling down the hill
and along the road, their lanterns making a bright spot on the snow;
the little childish voices talking, laughing, and little bands running
backward and forward, some disappearing at a turn of the road, the
lantern getting dimmer, and finally vanishing behind the trees. We went
very slowly, as the roads were dreadfully slippery, and had a running
escort all the way to the Mill of B