But Kling did interfere, and right royally, too, when he found time to think it over.  Some one of the old German legends must have worked its way through the dull crust of his brain, bringing back memories of his childhood.  Perhaps his conscience was pricked by his clerk’s attitude.  Whatever the cause, certain it is that he crept up-stairs a few hours before his house was to be thrown open to Masie’s guests, and, finding the banquet hall completely finished and nobody about, Felix and Masie having gone out together to perfect some little detail connected with the gifts, walked around in an aimless way, overwhelmed by the beauty and charm of the interior as it lay before him in the afternoon light.

On his way down he met the deaf Gossburger coming up.

“Dot is awful nice!” he shouted.  “I couldn’t believe dot was possible!  Dot is a vunderful—­VUNderful man!  I don’t see how dem rags and dot stuff look like dot ven you get ’em togedder anodder vay.  And now dere is vun thing I don’t got in my head yet:  Vot is it about dese presents?”

The old woman recounted the details as best she could.

“And dot is all, is it, Auntie Gossburger?  Only of pasteboard boxes vid candies in ’em, and little pieces paper vid writings on ’em dot Mr. O’Day makes?  Is dot vot you mean?”

The old woman nodded.

Kling turned suddenly, went down-stairs with his head up and shoulders back, called Hans to keep shop, and put on his hat.

When he returned an hour later, he was followed by a man carrying a big box.  This was placed behind Masie’s throne and so concealed by a rug that even Felix missed seeing it.

That everybody had accepted—­everybody who had been invited—­“big, little, and middle-sized”—­goes without saying.  Masie had called at each house herself, with Felix as cavalier—­just as he had promised her.  And they had each and every one, immediately abandoned all other plans for that particular night, promising to be there as early as could be arranged, it being a Saturday and the shops on “The Avenue” open an hour later than usual—­an indulgence counterbalanced by the fact that next day was Sunday and they could all sleep as long as they pleased.

And not only the neighbors, but Nat Ganger and Sam Dogger accepted.  Felix had gone down himself with Masie’s message, and they both had said they would come—­Sam to be on hand half an hour before the appointed hour of nine so as to serve as High Lord of the Robes, Masie having determined that nobody but “dear old Mr. Dogger” should show her how to put on the costume he had given her.

As for these two castaways, when they did enter the gorgeous room on the eventful night they fairly bubbled over.

“Don’t let old Kling touch it,” Ganger roared out as soon as he stepped inside, before he had even said “How do you do?” to anybody.  “Keep it as an exhibit.  Better still, send circulars up and down Fifth Avenue, and open it up as a school—­not one of ’em knows how to furnish their houses.  How the devil did you—­ Oh, I see!  Just plain yellow-wash and the reflected red light.  Looks like a stained-glass window in a measly old church.  Where’s Sam.  Oh, behind that screen.  Well come out here and look at that ceiling!”