hy, I don't know," Ethel Blue hesitated.

"Oh, if you don't care to have her--" replied Katharine stiffly.

"It isn't that," returned Ethel miserably. "Mary's always willing to do
things for us, but you see she's had a hard day and it isn't over yet
and she won't have any holiday at all if she has to do this."

"Very well," returned Katharine in a tone that made Ethel feel that her
friend considered that she was being discourteous to her guest. "I can
find something else to wear this evening, I suppose."

She looked so like a martyr that Ethel was most unhappy.

"If you'll let me try it, I can use the stove in our own little
kitchen," she offered, referring to the small room where Mrs. Morton
allowed the girls to cook so that they should not be in the way of the
servants.

"No, indeed, I could not think of letting you," responded Katharine.

"I don't know that I could do it. I never have pressed anything
nice--but I'd like to try if you'll trust me."

"No, indeed," repeated Katharine, and the girls entered the automobile
each in a state of mental discomfort, Katharine because she felt that
she was not being treated with proper consideration, and Ethel Blue
because she had been obliged to refuse the request of a friend and
guest. The ride to the Home was uncomfortably silent. On Roger's part
the cause was turkey, but the girls were quiet for other reasons.

The visit to the old ladies was not long. They distributed their
packages and wished everybody a "Merry Christmas" and shook hands with
their especial favorites and ran back to the car.

The supper was not really a party meal. It merely served as a gathering
place for the U. S. C. before they went to the Christmas tree at the
church. It also served as a background for Dick's little shining tree.
This small tree had been a part of Dick's Christmas ever since he had
had a Christmas, and to him it was quite as important as his dinner,
although there never were any presents on it.

It stood now on a small table at the side of the dining room. It was
lighted by means of the storage battery and the strings of tiny electric
lights that had been used for the Christmas Ship at the Glen Point
orphanage. There were all sorts of balls and tinsel wreaths and tiny,
glistening cords. It glowed merrily while the supper went on, Dicky, at
intervals of five minutes, calling everybody's attention to its
beauties. There were favors at each plate, each a joke of some sort on
t