As the day approached, the children often expressed the wish that it was here.  A few days was a long time for them to wait.  But time did not hasten.  The hours were just sixty minutes, and the minutes just sixty seconds.  The clock ticked on as usual.  It was unmoved by all the excitement, and never, for an instant, quickened its pace.

When Saturday came, their mother proposed that the presents should be distributed that evening.  She did not like to have the children wish the Sabbath past, and on Monday morning there would be but little time to make their arrangements before the hour for school.  She knew they would be quiet and happy if they had some new books to read, and would be perfectly willing to lay aside other gifts till Monday.

Mary wished to decorate the parlour with evergreens.  Mrs. Dudley sent a man to get some for her.  She and Willie arranged them in bunches and wreaths.  Eddie helped all he could, and was as happy as any of them.  In the afternoon their mother assisted them.  She put the bunches made of the delicate, feathery hemlock, and the dark glossy laurel, over the windows, and suspended the wreaths where the bay-windows projected from the room.  Small branches of cedar and spruce were tastefully arranged in vases, relieved by the rich, green leaves of the ivy, and the bright, lively twigs of box.

The children wished for a Christmas tree, but the evergreens they had were all too small for that purpose Mrs. Dudley suggested that the hat-stand might be substituted.  They were delighted, and immediately busied themselves in adorning it with garlands.  It proved quite ornamental, and the pegs served a very useful purpose.  Mary arranged on some strips of white paper the words, “A merry Christmas.”  The letters were made of the small leaves of the box, and were fastened on with gum-arabic.  These were placed amid the wreaths on the transformed hat-stand.

When all these arrangements were completed to their satisfaction, they left the room.  Mrs. Dudley remained some time longer.  When she left, the door was locked.

Mr. Dudley returned from the city, where he had been spending the day, bringing some friends with him.  Tea was speedily despatched, and then all the family were summoned.  The parlour door was unlocked.  There were various toys, baskets, and reticules suspended on the hat-stand.  There was a nice little felt hat for one of Mary’s dolls, and a looking-glass for the baby-house, and an embroidered cushion, which Willie’s industrious fingers had made for Minnie Dudley, as the doll is called—­a far better employment for him, I think, than throwing it about and treating it roughly, as I have sometimes heard of boys doing.  There were humming-tops, which reminded me, by their music, of the great spinning-wheel that whirred away in my mother’s kitchen when I was a child.  There were graces, and battle-doors, and jack-straws for the amusement of the children when it was too cold or stormy to play out of doors.