“I am always proud of myself,” asserted Hippy.  “In the first place there is a great deal of me to be proud of; and in the second place I don’t believe in hiding my light under a bushel.”

“Now Jessica, you have started him,” said David with a groan.  “He’ll talk about himself for an hour unless Reddy and I lead him out.”

“I dare you to lead me out,” defied Hippy.

“I never take a dare,” replied David calmly, making a lunge for Hippy.  “Come on, Reddy.”

Reddy sprang forward and Hippy was hustled out, chanting as he went: 

    “Now children do not blame me, for I have so
        much to say,
    That from myself I really cannot tear myself
        away,”

and remained outside for the space of two minutes, when he suddenly reappeared wearing Grace’s coat and Miriam Nesbit’s plumed hat and performed a wild dance down the middle of the room that made his friends shriek with laughter.

“Hippy, when will you be good?” inquired Miriam, as she rescued her hat, and smoothed its ruffled plumes.

“Never, I hope,” replied Hippy promptly.

“That’s the judge’s ring,” cried Grace as the sound of the bell echoed through the big room, and the guests flocked into the hall to welcome their host.

“This is what I call a warm reception,” laughed Judge Putnam, as he stood surrounded by laughing faces.

“I claim the privilege of escorting Judge Putnam down the hall,” cried Nora, and she conducted him directly to where the mistletoe hung.

“I must be an object of envy to you young men,” chuckled the judge, as he walked unsuspectingly to his fate.

“The mistletoe!  The mistletoe!  You’re standing under the mistletoe!” was the cry and the seven girls and Miss Putnam joined hands and circled around the judge.  Then each girl in turn stepped up and imprinted a kiss on the good old judge’s cheek.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed the old gentleman, but there were tears in his blue eyes and his voice trembled as he said to his sister, who was the last to salute him, “It takes me back over the years, Mary.”

It was a merry party that ran upstairs to dress for dinner that night, and the spirit of Christmas seemed to have settled down upon the judge’s borrowed household.

The only thing that had dimmed Grace Harlowe’s pleasure in the least was the passage at arms that had occurred between herself and Henry Hammond.  Grace’s conscience smote her.  She felt that she should not have spoken to him as she had, even though she disliked him.  To be sure, his remark about Marian’s gown had caused her inwardly to accuse him of influencing Marian to make herself ridiculous in the eyes of her friends, but she could not forgive herself for having unthinkingly spoken as she had done.

After due reflection Grace decided that she had acted unwisely, and made up her mind that she would try to make amends for her unkind retort.  She decided, however, to see if she could not persuade Marian to go back to her usual style of dress.