ishop himself?"

Margaret flushed brightly. The Reverend William Sewall was her brother.
He might be the very manly and dignified young rector of a fashionable
city church, but no man who answers to the name of Billy in his own
family can be a really formidable personage, and he and his sister
Margaret were undeniably great chums.

"Of course Billy would," cried Margaret. "You know perfectly well
he would, Guy, dear. He doesn't care a straw about millionaires'
dinners--he'd rather have an evening with his newsboys' club, any
time. He has his own service Christmas morning, of course, but in
the evening--He could come up on the afternoon train--he'd love to.
Why, Billy's a bachelor--he's nothing in the world to keep him. I'll
telephone him, first thing in the morning."

From this point on there was no lack of enthusiasm. If Billy Sewall
was coming to North Estabrook, as Sam Burnett remarked, it was time
to get interested--and busy. They discussed everything, excitement
mounting--the music, the trimming of the church--then, more prosaically,
the cleaning and warming and lighting of it. Finally, the making known
to North Estabrook the news of the coming event--for nothing less than
an event it was sure to be to North Estabrook.

"Put a notice in the post office," advised Guy, comfortably crossing
his legs and grinning at his father, "and tell Aunt Eliza and Miss Jane
Pollock, and the thing is done. Sam, I think I see you spending the next
two days at the top of ladders, hanging greens. I have a dim and hazy
vision of you on your knees before that stove that always used to smoke
when the wind was east--the one in the left corner--praying to it to
quit fussing and draw. A nice, restful Christmas vacation you'll have!"

Sam Burnett looked at his wife. "She's captain," said he. "If she wants
to play with the old meeting-house, play she shall--so long as she
doesn't ask me to preach the sermon."

"You old dear!" murmured Nan, jumping up to stand behind his chair, her
two pretty arms encircling his stout neck from the rear. "You _could_
preach a better sermon than lots of ministers, if you are only an
upright old bank cashier."

"Doubtless, Nancy, doubtless," murmured Sam, pleasantly. "But as it will
take the wisdom of a Solomon, the tact of a Paul, and the eloquence of
the Almighty Himself to preach a sermon on the present occasion that
will divert the Tomlinsons and the Frasers, the Hills and the Pollocks
from glaring a