“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst us all this time,” Granny said after the excitement had died down.  She was sitting on the couch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and Dicky on the other.  “And sure, me own hearrt was telling me the trut’ all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut—­for ’twas loving this foine little lad ivry minut av the day.”  She patted Dicky’s head.  “And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!” She cuddled Delia close.  “OI’m the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld this day.”

It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinner together.  Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments to bring their turkey to the feast.

“Granny, will you love me just the same now that you’ve got Dicky and Delia?” Maida said wistfully.

“Love you, my lamb?  Sure, I’ll love you all the more for ’twas t’rough you I met Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I found me Annie.  Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis the grand man you make for such a b’y that you are!”

“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.

When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on the dinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree.  When the door opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny’s brogue growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dore relapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech.  At such times, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always “skrinkled up.”

They were just putting the finishing touches to the tree when the window darkened suddenly.  Maida looked up in surprise.  And then, “Oh, my papa’s come!” she screamed; “my papa’s come to my Christmas tree after all!”

There is so much to tell about the Christmas tree that I don’t know where to begin.

First of all came Laura and Harold.  Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them for a moment to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding her mother.

“Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce my father, Mr. Westabrook,” Maida said.

Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious.  “The neighborhood have accepted your daughter as Mrs. Flynn’s grandchild, Mr. Westabrook.  But I guessed the truth from the first.  I believed, however, that you wished the matter kept a secret and I have said nothing of it to anybody.”

“I thank you, madam,” said “Buffalo” Westabrook, bending on her one of his piercing scrutinies.  “How ever the neighborhood accepted her, they have given her back her health.  I can never be too grateful to them.”

Came Rosie next with a, “Oh, Maida, if you could only have seen Edward when my mother bathed him to-night!” Came Arthur, came the Doyles, came the Clark twins with Betsy tagging at their heels.  Last of all, to Maida’s great delight, came Dr. Pierce.

Nobody was allowed to go into the shop where the tree stood until the last guest had arrived.  But in spite of their impatience they had a gay half hour of waiting.  Billy amused them with all kinds of games and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. Pierce, who soon became a great favorite, took them in hand.