as up at daybreak,
cleaning and decorating at a furious rate. By eleven o'clock
everything was finished or going forward briskly. The plum pudding was
bubbling in the pot, the turkey--Burton's plumpest--was sizzling in
the oven. The shelf in the pantry bore two mince pies upon which
Alexina was willing to stake her culinary reputation. And Stephen had
gone to the train to meet Uncle James.

From her kitchen window Alexina could see brisk preparations going on
in the Tracy kitchen. She knew Josie and Duncan were all alone; their
parents had gone to spend Christmas with friends in Lessing. In spite
of her hurry and excitement Alexina found time to sigh. Last Christmas
Josie and Duncan had come over and eaten their dinner with them. But
now last Christmas seemed very far away. And Josie had behaved
horridly. Alexina was quite clear on that point.

Then Stephen came with Uncle James. Uncle James was a rather pompous,
fussy old man with red cheeks and bushy eyebrows. "H'm! Smells nice in
here," was his salutation to Alexina. "I hope it will taste as good as
it smells. I'm hungry."

Alexina soon left Uncle James and Stephen talking in the parlour and
betook herself anxiously to the kitchen. She set the table in the
little dining room, now and then pausing to listen with a delighted
nod to the murmur of voices and laughter in the parlour. She felt sure
that Stephen was making a favourable impression. She lifted the plum
pudding and put it on a plate on the kitchen table; then she took out
the turkey, beautifully done, and put it on a platter; finally, she
popped the two mince pies into the oven. Just at this moment Stephen
stuck his head in at the hall door.

"Lexy, do you know where that letter of Governor Howland's to Father
is? Uncle James wants to see it."

Alexina, not waiting to shut the oven door--for delay might impress
Uncle James unfavourably--rushed upstairs to get the letter. She was
ten minutes finding it. Then, remembering her pies, she flew back to
the kitchen. In the middle of the floor she stopped as if transfixed,
staring at the table. The turkey was gone. And the plum pudding was
gone! And the mince pies were gone! Nothing was left but the platters!
For a moment Alexina refused to believe her eyes. Then she saw a trail
of greasy drops on the floor to the open door, out over the doorstep,
and along the boards of the walk to the back fence.

Alexina did not make a fuss. Even at that horrible moment she