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Arrived in the room and relieved of hat and coat, Mr. Tripple bowed mysteriously to Dolly, and, intrusting her with the box, whispered,–“Go and hand that to sister Polly, little un.” Polly, receiving it from her, exclaimed in surprise,–

“For me, Mr. Tripple?”

“Yes, miss,” he replied, growing red and smiling broadly, “a little something for Christmas, that’s all.”

Polly opened the box and extracted a pasteboard plane with some artificial shavings pasted upon it, which, when lifted apart, discovered a heap of sweetmeats. Dolly and Molly, looking on, exclaimed, “Why, Mr. Tripple, what a surprise!” and Polly blushingly added, “So very unexpected!”

Mr. Tripple grew redder and nervously crossed his legs, saying, “I thought ‘twould be kind a appropriate to the trade, you know, and so I just fetched it up, and—-“

Then Polly, seeing his embarrassment, called on David and the rest to come and help themselves, and there was good humor and laughing until the twins darted away to got dinner, which was soon prepared, for there was little enough to get, and all invited to sit up to the table.

All were duly in their places, and David had, in accordance with Christmas custom, offered grace. Mr. Tripple and the girls were slowly raising their bowed heads, when a loud knock announced a visitor, and hastened the raising of heads to an unseemly hurry.

“Tom!” all exclaimed.

Molly hurried down-stairs, and the rest rushed to the stair-landing, where, in a moment, they received, not Tom, but a large, square basket that emitted a very fragrant smell of roasted fowl, in the arms of the returning Molly. Once in the room, the lid was off in a twinkling, and out came a sizable plate, enveloped in dainty, clean napkins, which, being removed in layers, exhibited, in all its brown deliciousness, a huge turkey, just done to a turn.

The party gathered around in pleased wonder, and as Molly threw the napkins into the basket a card fell on the floor. She picked it up and, astonished, read, “Emanuel Griffin.”

“What!” said David, snatching it and reading it aloud to himself, “Emanuel Griffin. So it is, and no mistake!” and then he burst out, “Hurrah! hurrah for Griffin! I knew he couldn’t forget us this year!” His poor old face was almost young again, and his voice,–why, it could actually be heard as he ran on: “Why, there never was such a year for the china trade, Tripple, and how could he forget me? Jacob Tripple, your hand! A kiss, Little Scout! Why, your old father’s ‘most young again, and his good girls shall dine like other good girls, after all! How very thoughtful of Griffin to send it in the nick of time, too. Come, sit up again before it gets cold, and I wish we had something as hot to drink Griffin’s health in. Why, I believe I could sing a song again if we had something hot. I do, indeed!”

So he ran on in his childish delight at the thought of being remembered, and at the far more grateful thought that his beloved daughters were to share the gift with him.

When he had ceased, all turned to Molly and asked in one breath who had left it. When the clamor slackened, she replied, “Why, young Cuffy from the baker’s, and all he said was, ‘David Dubbs,–to be sent–card inside,’ and then kissing his hand, and crying ‘Love to her,’ meaning I don’t know who,” with a smirk at Polly, “he jumped aboard his wagon and flew away down the court.”

Never was a turkey enjoyed so much, and never had a turkey better deserved it.

Mr. Tripple grew bland and talkative under its juicy influence. He even winked at Polly occasionally, and one time actually chucked her under the chin. She sat next to him, remarking that if he had his way she should live forever on turkey and sugar-plums. David ventured to say that that course of diet would be pretty indigestive, whereupon Mr. Tripple fondly suggested, as he gazed into her eyes, “How would love do for a substitute, then?” implying that “his way” would supply that abstract edible in equally large doses.