MR. HUBBARD.  The Hubbards are a proud race.  No male Hubbard would dream of appearing at Court without a gentleman’s gold Albert watch-chain. . . .  Besides, there is another thing.  There will be many footmen at Father Christmas’s Court, who will doubtless require coppers pressed into their palms.  My honour would be seriously affected, were I compelled to whisper to them that I had no coppers.

MRS. HUBBARD.  It is very unfortunate.  Father Christmas may have hundreds of presents waiting for us.

MR. HUBBARD.  True.  But how would it be to hang up our stockings again this evening—­now that we know he knows we are here?  I would suggest tied on to the door-knocker, to save him the trouble of coming down the chimney.

MRS. HUBBARD (excitedly).  Henry, I wonder!  But of course we will.

(They begin to take off—­the one a sock, the other a stocking.)

MR. HUBBARD.  I almost wish now that my last suit had been a knickerbocker one.  However, we must do what we can with a sock.

MRS. HUBBARD (holding up her stocking and looking at it a little anxiously).  I hope Father Christmas won’t give me a bicycle.  A stocking never sets so well after it has had a bicycle in it.

MR. HUBBARD (taking it from her).  Now, dear, I will go down and put them in position.  Let us hope that fortune will be kind to us.

MRS. HUBBARD.  Let us hope so, darling.  And quickly.  For (picking up her page of the magazine) it is a trifle cold.

    [He goes out and she is left reading.

SCENE II.—­Outside the house the snow lies deep.  The stocking and sock are tied on to the door-knocker.  There is a light in the window.

A party of carol-singers, with lanterns, come by and halt in the snow outside the house.

PETER ABLEWAYS.  Friends, are we all assembled?

JONAS HUMPHREY.  Ay, ay, Peter Ableways, assembled and met together in a congregation, for the purpose of lifting up our voices in joyous thanksgiving, videlicet the singing of a carol or other wintry melody.

JENNIFER LING.  Keep your breath for your song, Master Humphrey.  That last “Alleluia” of yours was a poor windy thing, lacking grievously in substance.

JONAS (sadly).  It is so.  I never made much of an Alleluia.  It is not in my nature somehow.  ’Tis a vain boastful thing an Alleluia.

MARTHA PORRITT.  Are we to begin soon, Master Ableways?  My feet are cold.

JONAS.  What matter the feet, Martha Porritt, if the heart be warm with loving-kindness and seasonable emotions?

MARTHA.  Well, nothing of me will be warm soon.

JENNIFER.  Ay, let’s begin, Peter Ableways, while we carry the tune in our heads.  It is ill searching for the notes in the middle of the carol, as some singers do.

PETER.  Well spoken, Mistress Jennifer.  Now listen all, while I unfold the nature of the entertainment. Item—­A carol or birth song to draw the attention of all folk to the company here assembled and the occasion celebrated. Item—­Applause and the clapping of hands. Item—­A carol or song of thanksgiving. Item—­A collection.