“Thank you,” said she.  “Did Master Alexander give you this?”

“Ay.”

“Thank you, that’s right!” and away he went.

“You see,” said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came out to the porch.  “Let us look.  O, they have vouchsafed a note!” and she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary’s handwriting to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, “Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey and Dick are going up to Andrews’s about his terrier.—­A.  L.”  “Very cool, certainly!” said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique.  “What a life I will lead them!”

“Well, you were a true prophet,” said Henrietta, “and after all it does not much signify.  They have done all the work that is out of reach; but still I thought Fred would have behaved better.”

“You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, and Fred with his own congeners,” said Beatrice; “you don’t know half the phases of boy nature.”

Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected him to-day.  Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was nothing—­that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father’s grave.  He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one moment’s doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to each other at Rocksand.

It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had passed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the natives of Knight Sutton.  They took a short walk up and down the churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already.  They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day.

It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger—­

  “Hark! the herald angels sing
   Glory to the new-born King,
   Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
   God and sinners reconciled.”

Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and thankfulness for the “good tidings of great joy.”  Another and another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath their influence.  They scarcely knew how time passed away, till Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the door watching them.