"And it's only good for the children to play with," wailed Agnes.

Neale's face grew very red and his eyes flashed. He closed the book fiercely. "If I had so much money," he gasped, "I'd never have to take a cent from Uncle Bill Sorber again as long as I lived, I could pay for my own education-and go to college, too!"

"Oh! Neale! couldn't you? And if it were _mine_ we'd have an auto,"

repeated Agnes, "and a man to run it."

"Pooh! _I_ could learn to run it for you," proposed Neale. But it was plain by the look on his face that he was not thinking of automobiles.

"Say! don't let's give it to the kids to play with-not yet," he added.

"Why not?"

"I-I don't know," the boy said frankly. "But don't do it. Let me take the book."

"Oh, Neale! you wouldn't try to pa.s.s the money?" gasped Agnes.

"Huh! think I'm a chump?" demanded the boy. "I want to study over it.

Maybe I'll show the bonds to somebody. Who knows-they may still be of some small value."

"We-ell-of course, the money-"

"That's phony-sure!" cried Neale, hastily. "But bonds sometimes are worth a little, even when they are as old as these."

"No-o," sighed Agnes, shaking her head. "No such good luck."

"But you don't mind if I take the book?" Neale urged.

"No. But do take care of it."

So Neale took the old sc.r.a.p-book home under his arm, neither he nor Agnes suspecting what trouble and worriment would arise from this simple act.

CHAPTER VII

"G.o.d REST YE, MERRIE GENTLEMEN"

There was a whisper in the corridor, a patter of softly shod feet upon the stair.

Even Uncle Rufus had not as yet arisen, and it was as black as pitch outside the Corner House windows.

The old dog, Tom Jonah, rose, yawning, from his rug before the kitchen range, walked sedately to the swinging door of the butler's pantry, and put his nose against it. The whispering and pattering of feet was in the front hall, but Tom Jonah's old ears were sharp.

The sounds came nearer. Tess and Dot were coming down to see what Santa Claus had left them. Old Tom Jonah whined, put both paws to the door, and slipped through. He bounded through the second swinging door into the dining room just as the two smallest Corner House girls, with their candle, entered from the hall.

"Oh, Tom Jonah!" cried Tess.

"Merry Christmas, Tom Jonah!" shouted Dot, skipping over to the chimney-place. Then she squealed: "Oh-ee! He _did_ come, Tess! Santa Claus has been here!"

"Well," sighed Tess, thankfully, "it's lucky Tom Jonah didn't bite him."

Dot hurried to move a chair up to the hearth, and climbed upon it to reach her stocking. The tree was in the shadow now, and the children did not note the packages tied to its branches.

Dot unhooked her own and her sister's stockings and then jumped down, a bulky and "k.n.o.bby" hose under each arm.

"Come on back to bed and see what's in them," proposed Tess.

"No!" gasped Dot. "I can't wait-I really can't, Tess. I just feel as though I should faint."

She dropped right down on the floor, holding her own stocking clasped close to her breast. There her gaze fell upon a shiny, smart-looking go-cart, just big enough for her Alice-doll, that had been standing on the hearth underneath the place where her stocking had hung.

"Oh! _oh!_ OH!" shrieked Dot. "I know I shall faint."

Tess was finding her own treasures; but Tess could never enjoy anything selfishly. She must share her joy with somebody.

"Oh, Dot! Let's show the others what we've got. And Ruthie and Aggie ought to be down, too," she urged.

"Let's take our stockings upstairs and show 'em," Dot agreed.

She piled her toys, helter skelter, into the doll wagon. "My Alice-doll _must_ see this carriage," she murmured, and started for the door. Tess followed with her things gathered into the lap of her robe. Tom Jonah paced solemnly after them, and so the procession mounted the front stairs-Dot having some difficulty with the carriage.

Ruth heard them coming and called out "Merry Christmas!" to them; but Agnes was hard to awaken, for she had been up late. The chattering and laughter finally aroused the beauty, and she sat up in bed, yawning to the full capacity of her "red, red cavern with its fringe of white pearls all around."

"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" they all shouted at her.

"Oh-dear-me! Merry Christmas!" returned Agnes. "But why be so noisy about it?"

"Come over here, Miss Lazybones," cried Ruth, "and see what Santa Claus has brought the children."

"What's that?" demanded Agnes, as she hopped out of bed. "Who's going down the back stairs?"

"Linda," said Ruth. "Can't you tell those clod-hopper shoes she wears? I wonder if everybody in Finland wears such footgear?"

"Maybe she's going to look at _her_ stocking," Tess said. "I hope she likes the handkerchiefs I monogrammed for her."

But before long the pungent smell of freshly ground coffee came up the back stairway and a.s.sured the girls that the serving maid was at work.

"Why so ear-ear-ear-ly?" yawned Agnes, again. "Why! it's still pitch-dark."

Uncle Rufus was usually the first astir in the Corner House and Linda was not noted for early rising. But now the girls heard the stairs creak again-this time under Mrs. MacCall's firm tread.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mac!" they all shouted.

The smiling Scotchwoman came to the door with her bedroom candle in her hand.

"Indeed, I hope 'twill be a merry ain for my fower sweethearts," she said. "Your Mrs. Mac must have a kiss from ever' ain o' ye," and she proceeded to take toll from the quartette.