Percy broke in with an old song, and went through with a whole stanza of it, although no one listened to a word:—­

    “Good luck unto old Christmas,
      And long life let us sing,
    For he doeth more good unto the poor
      Than many a crowned king.”

“My beautiful books!” cried aunt Madge; “Russia morocco.”

“My writing-desk,—­has any one looked at it?” said Mrs. Parlin; “rose-wood, inlaid with brass.”

“My skates!” broke in Susy, at the top of her voice.

“Hush!” screamed cousin Percy; “won’t anybody please notice my drum?  If you won’t look, then look out for a drum in each ear!”

And as nobody would look or pay the slightest attention, they all had to hear “Dixie” pounded out in true martial style, till they held on to their ears.

“Rattlety bang!” went the drum.  “Tweet, tweet,” whistled the little musical instruments which the children were blowing.

“Have pity on us!” cried aunt Madge; “I am bewildered; my head is floating like a Chinese garden.”

“Order!” shouted Mr. Parlin, laughing.

“O, yes, sir,” said Percy, seizing Susy and whirling her round.  “Children, why don’t you try to preserve order?  My nerves are strung up like violin-strings!  I’ve got a pound of headache to every ounce of brains.  Susy Parlin, do try to keep still!”

“Thee needn’t pretend it is all Susan,” said grandma Read, smiling.  “Thee and little Prudence are the noisiest of the whole!”

In fact, they raised such a din, that after a while poor grandma Read smoothed the Quaker cap over her smiling face, and stole off into her own chamber, where she could “settle down into quietness.”  Much noise always confused grandma Read.

But in a very few moments, when the excitement began to die out, there was a season of overwhelming gratitude.  Everybody had to thank everybody else; and Mr. Parlin, who had a beautiful dressing-gown to be grateful for, nevertheless found time to tell Susy, over and over again, how delighted he was with her book-mark, made, by her own fingers, of three wide strips of velvet ribbon; on the ends of which were fastened a cross, a star, and an anchor, of card-board.

“Papa, one ribbon is to keep your place in the Old Testament,” said Susy; “one is to stay in the middle, at the births and marriages; and the other one is for our chapter in the New Testament, you know.”

“I think my lamp-mat is very pretty,” said aunt Madge, kissing Susy; “every bit as pretty as if Prudy hadn’t ‘been and told.’”

Prudy had bought a shawl-pin for her mother, a fierce little wooden soldier for aunt Madge, and something for everybody else but Susy.  Not that she forgot Susy.  O, no! but one’s money does not always hold out, even at Christmas time.

“Why,” said Mr. Parlin, “what is this sticking fast to the sole of my new slipper?  Molasses candy, I do believe.”