Princess Polly's Gay Winter Part 20

"Of course not," cried Gwen. "What fun would it be to call on neighbors?

I'd rather go to houses where I _don't know_ the people, just for the sake of seeing what they look like, and how their houses look."

The young teacher was not surprised. That very morning, soon after breakfast, upon returning to her room, she had found Gwen on her knees searching her trunk. Gwen had neither blushed, nor looked abashed.

"I wanted to know how many dresses you brought with you," she had said coolly, "and I don't see but one in the closet, two in this trunk, and one you have on. Is that all you have?"

Mrs. Harcourt pa.s.sing the door, looked in to smile at Gwen.

"You mustn't mind if my little daughter examines your belongings in your trunks or bureau drawers. She's only deeply interested in you,"

she said.

The young governess felt like saying that she did not enjoy the sort of interest that made a child feel free to handle and examine the property of others, but she said nothing.

She knew that Mrs. Harcourt considered Gwen faultless.

Weeks had pa.s.sed since the little pupils had commenced to strive to win the prize. Now there was great excitement. At the end of the afternoon session the name of the winner was to be announced, and in the evening the Holiday party at Sherwood Hall was to be enjoyed.

Of all the boys and girls at school, Sprite Seaford was surely the most restless.

At one time her cheeks would be hot, and soon after the color would leave them.

She had worked very, _very_ hard to win the prize.

Oh, whose was it to be?

She clasped, and unclasped her nervous hands.

And when at last the teacher went to the board just back of her desk and wrote:

"Sprite Seaford, Prize winner," Sprite leaned back in her seat, pale, and almost breathless. For a moment not a sound broke the silence.

Sprite stared at the written words as if half stunned with surprise.

"Three cheers for Sprite Seaford!" shouted Rob Lindsey, forgetting that he was in school, and the teacher laughed outright.

"Give them, every one of you," she cried, and they gave them with a will.

Evening had come, starlight, moonlight in the great garden at Sherwood Hall, and a blaze of light indoors, where little feet kept time to sweet music, and sweeter voices laughed and talked in merry mood.

Princess Polly in white with silver spangles, a silver bandeau holding her powdered curls in place, looked like a little lady of the time of Watteau.

Faces and forms were different in character, but the costumes were similar, because Mrs. Sherwood had asked both boys and girls to come clad in white, with powdered hair.

It was a Holiday party, and the white costumes suggested the snowy season.

The walls were hung with holly and mistletoe, and the wreaths and garlands were tied with scarlet ribbons, while portieres and hangings were of scarlet brocade.

Rosy cheeks and red lips looked well with the powdered hair, and bright eyes twinkled beneath snowy bangs.

A slender figure dressed in the gaudy colors of a court jester, skipped here and there between the dancers making comical jokes, while he tossed, and nimbly caught a bright colored ball.

Still they danced to merry measures, and from behind a damask curtain came a slender girl in hues as bright as that of the jester.

A basket of beautiful flowers hung from her arm, and these she offered to the little guests.

The boys placed them in their b.u.t.tonholes, and the girls tucked the roses and lilies in their girdles.

Hark! A flourish of silvery trumpets announced the arrival of some great personage!

Another long, sweet note, and there strode into the room a tall figure in crimson velvet and white fur, with snowy beard, and kindly face, across whose breast gold letters bespoke his name:

"King Christmas."

A great pack was on his back, which when opened, gave forth beautiful gifts for all.

There were bangles for the girls, there were rings, or silver pencils for the boys, and a kindly word he spoke to each as he presented the gift.

"Now here's a little purse of fifty gold dollars for the little la.s.s who won it by faithful study, and the giver permits me to present it.

Come, little la.s.s, and take it, for now it belongs to you."

Sprite ran to him, as he stood waiting.

"Oh, I know you, King Christmas! You are good, kind Uncle John! I know your pleasant voice that I've learned to love so well!" she said.

"Even as I love you, dear child," he cried, placing a strong arm around her slender little form, while with the other hand he tore off the beard that so disguised him.

"I am King Christmas," he said, laughing gaily as he pointed proudly to the golden letters on his breast.

"Also Baron Goodfellow!" said Mr. Sherwood. "That name fits you just as well."

"Prince Give Give wouldn't be half bad," said Rob Lindsey, "for he's wild to give _somebody something_, all the time."

"Everyone in this house to-night is dear," said Sprite.

"Including you, Sprite Seaford," said Rose, and little Sprite felt that she had never been so happy.

There were merry games, and then refreshments, and then more games in which the elders joined, and when "good nights" were said, the guests turned homeward with happy hearts.

The moonlight s.h.i.+mmered on the snow, and glittered on the pendant icicles, and the keen, frosty air proved it to be true Holiday weather.

Jingling sleigh bells, tooting auto horns, voices talking, and laughing at the same time told of a gay evening that all had enjoyed.

They would dream of the party that night, and talk of it on the morrow.