The children were already up the hill, tugging the big cart filled with pine cones.  The school-mistress was much pleased at the idea of the Christmas Tree; she had never seen one except in pictures, and never thought she would really have one in her school.  We settled the day, and she promised to come and help arrange the church.  Then we went into the school-room, and it was funny to hear the answer—­a roar—­of “Oui, Madame Waddington,” when I asked her if the children were “good”; so we told them if they continued very good there would be a surprise for them.  There are only thirty scholars—­rather poor and miserable looking; some of them come from so far, trudge along the high-road in a little band, in all weathers, insufficiently clad—­one big boy to-day had on a linen summer jacket.  I asked the teacher if he had a tricot underneath.  “Mais non, Madame, ou l’aurait-il trouve?” He had a miserable little shirt underneath which may once have been flannel, but which was worn threadbare.

We chose our day and then adjourned to the church, where the Mayor and a nice, red-cheeked, wrinkled old woman[8] who keeps the ornaments, such as they are, of the church were waiting for us.  It was certainly bare and neglected, the old church, bits of plaster dropping off walls and ceilings, and the altar and one or two little statues still in good condition; but we saw we could arrange it pretty well with greens, the few flowers, chrysanthemums, Christmas roses, etc., that were still in the green-house, a new red carpet for the altar steps, and of course vases, tall candlesticks, etc.  There was one handsome bit of old lace on a white nappe for the altar, and a good dress for the Virgin.  We could have the school benches, and the Mayor would lend chairs for the “quality.”  On the whole we were satisfied, and told W. triumphantly at dinner that the Mayor, so far from making any objection, was pleased as Punch; he had never seen a Christmas Tree either.

  [8] La Mere Rogov.

[Illustration:  The Mayor and a nice, red-cheeked, wrinkled old woman were waiting for us.]

The next day the list of the children was sent according to age and sex—­also the old people; and we were very busy settling what we must do in the way of toys.  The principal thing was to go to Paris and get all we wanted—­toys, “betises”, and shiny things for the Tree, etc.  Henrietta and I undertook that, and we went off the same day that W. left for London.  It was bitterly cold—­the ground frozen hard—­and we had a long drive, eighteen kilometres through Villers-Cotterets forest—­but no snow, only a beautiful white frost—­all the trees and bushes covered with rime.  It was like driving through a fairy forest.  When we had occasional gleams of sunlight every leaf sparkled, and the red berries of the holly stood out beautifully from all the white.  The fine old ruins of La Ferte looked splendid rising out of a mass of glistening