"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!"
"Nobody is ill, Betty?" Rosamond asked, anxiously.
"If I had three guesses, I should use every one that our maid wanted to
go into town for the day, and Betty took her place." It was Miss Hyle's
calm voice.
Betty blushed. It was her turn now to flash back a glance; and those
two sparks kindled the fire of friendship.
It was a jolly Christmas dinner, with the "butler" eating with the
family.
"And now the dishes!" thought Betty. It must be admitted the "washing
up" after a Christmas dinner of twelve is not a subject for much joy.
"I propose we all help Betty wash the dishes!" cried Rosamond Howitt.
Out in the kitchen every one laughed and talked and got in the way, and
had a good time; and if the milk pitcher was knocked on the floor and
the pudding bowl emptied in Betty's lap--why, it was all "Merry
Christmas."
After that they all skated again. When they came in, little Miss
Thrasher, looking almost gay in a rose-red gown, met them in the
corridor.
"I thought it would be fun," she said, shyly, "to have supper in my
room. I have a big box from home. I couldn't possible eat all the
things myself, and if you'll bring chafing-dishes and spoons, and those
things, I'll cook it, and we can sit round my open fire."
Miss Thrasher's room was homelike, with its fire of white-birch and its
easy chairs, and Miss Thrasher herself proved to be a pleasant hostess.
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