During the forenoon the house was inspected from the quaint little rooms under the eaves to the cold-storage apartment below ground.  Miss Crilly insisting that she wanted to see the head and the foot of it; and no new mistress of her own home would have been human not to be pleased with the praise that came from all lips, even including Miss Castlevaine’s and Mrs. Crump’s.  In fact, these two fault-finders appeared to have been won over from their most unpleasant habits by the changes at the Home, which went to prove that Colonel Gresham was not wholly wrong.

“The clouds are chiming in with the rest of the world,” called Miss Mullaly from the sunshine-room, just as the sun was setting.  “Come here, every one of you, and see this sky!”

Informality was the watchword of the day, the guests having early been given the freedom of the house, and Miss Mullaly had strayed away from the others into the windowed room.

“My sakes!” exclaimed Miss Crilly.  “Isn’t that a real Christmas celebration!”

After the first outburst, the little party watched the gorgeous display almost in silence.

“It is too grand for words,” breathed Miss Major.

Mrs. Randolph caught sight of Miss Twining’s face, and it turned her from the distant glory.  She told Mrs. Albright afterwards that she looked as if it were given her to see what was not visible to the others—­a glimpse of heaven itself.

Mrs. Bonnyman broke the spell.

“Let’s go back before it fades,” she suggested.  And the majority followed her into the firelit living-room.

“You missed the lovely purple tints,” Miss Mullaly told them, as the remaining quartette filed back to join the rest.

“We’d rather have the picture of that magnificent sky of mottled crimson,” declared Mrs. Grace.

“Nothing could be finer than that,” observed Mrs. Tenney.

“Look out!” broke in a rich voice.  “I shan’t let you say there’s anything finer than this!”

“Not even a sunset?” laughed Miss Crilly, as Nelson Randolph appeared in the doorway,

“A sunset is all right in its proper place,” he smiled; “but when I want to ornament a chandelier I prefer this.”  He held up a large spray of mistletoe.  “What do you think?” he challenged Miss Crilly.

“I guess you’ve got me this time!” she laughed.

“And I may get you again, my girl, before the evening is out!” He shook a warning finger in her direction.

“Dear me!” she cried, “I’m glad I came!  To be called a ‘girl’!  I, an old maid of—­I won’t tell how many ‘summers’!  Thank you, Mr. Randolph!”

“If all old maids were as young as you there wouldn’t be any,” he responded gallantly.

She laughed her blushing protest, while he went for a stepladder.

The mistletoe, in its place of honor among the evergreens, brought forth many expressions of admiration.

The host surveyed it with satisfaction.