Betty’s mother cautioned the young folks that all gifts be simple and inexpensive.
So Agnes bought for Betty a pretty little white fan that she might carry to evening parties, and Betty bought for Agnes a slender gold bangle.
The boys bought knives for each other, which caused the girls much amusement, for neither Jack nor Stub knew that each had bought a knife, and the girls knew that the knives were exactly alike. Of course Betty wished to give more valuable gifts to Jack and her mother, so, under the guidance of Mrs. McGuire, she bought a beautiful little gold watch and fob for Jack. It was a beauty, and Betty knew it would give the boy the keenest pleasure.
For her mother she wanted to get something very nice indeed, but she had no one with whom to consult. Jack and the Grahams were no better able than herself to advise on such a subject, and Lisette could not be expected to know much about it.
But, by a fortunate occurrence, the way was made easy. Betty and her mother had gone to a great jewelry shop to buy Jack’s watch, and, after the purchase was completed, they strolled about the shop looking at the beautiful things displayed in the cases.
Suddenly Betty spied a lady whom she recognized. It was Mrs. Sanderson, at whose house in New York Betty had first met Grandma Kinsey.
“Mother,” said Betty, speaking very quickly, “will you stay right here and not look around for a few minutes?”
“I can’t let you go away from me alone, Betty,” said her mother, smiling at the earnest little face.
“But, Mother, I’m only going to the very next counter, and there’s a lady that I know.”
“Very well; I trust you not to go farther than the next counter; and I’ll wait for you here.”
“Don’t turn round.”
“No, but don’t be too long.”
Betty hurried to Mrs. Sanderson, who was looking at jewels at the next counter.
“How do you do, Mrs. Sanderson?” she said, speaking politely, but very rapidly. “Do you remember me? I’m Betty McGuire, and I was at your house last year with Mrs. Van Court, and I found Mrs. Kinsey there, and now she lives with me.”
Mrs. Sanderson looked at the excited little girl, and at last she remembered her.
“Oh, yes,” she said; “the little Irish girl who came into a fortune.”
“Yes’m,” said Betty. “That’s me, ma’am. And since then I’ve found my mother, and she’s here with me. But I want to buy her a Christmas present unbeknownst to her, and I thought you’d be willing to help me a bit if I asked you.”
“What a strange child!” said Mrs. Sanderson, putting up her lorgnette to look at Betty again.
“Yes, I am, ma’am. But will you help me buy the present, and then I’ll introduce my mother; you’ll love her, ma’am, she’s that sweet!”
Always when Betty was embarrassed or excited she slipped back into her almost forgotten brogue. And perhaps it was that and the persuasive little voice that touched Mrs. Sanderson’s sympathies, for she said kindly:
“Why, certainly, my dear; I’ll help you with pleasure. What do you want to buy?”
“I want a small diamond brooch, please, and not too grand a one; my mother doesn’t like things too grand. But a plainish one that she could wear every day, and yet a good one at that.”
Mrs. Sanderson smiled, but she seemed to understand, and as the affable salesman showed them various styles, she selected one that seemed to fit accurately Betty’s requirements.
“This, I think, is lovely,” she said; “I’m sure your mother would like it.”
“I’m sure, too,” said Betty, “and it’s the very one I like best myself.”
The purchase was completed, and, with the little box in her hand, Betty took Mrs. Sanderson to the next counter to meet her mother. The ladies seemed too pleased to know each other, and Betty was very happy.
Then good-by greetings were exchanged and, as it was luncheon-hour, Betty’s mother marshaled her brood together.
“I think we won’t go back to the hotel for luncheon,” she said; “for it’s after one o’clock, and we still have some errands to do. So we’ll go over to the Waldorf and lunch there, which will give you hotel-loving children another glimpse of a New York Christmas crowd.”
This plan was carried out, and the young quartet watched with sparkling eyes the throngs of people on Christmas errands bent.
“Now to finish our errands, and then home,” said Mrs. McGuire, after luncheon was over.
But when they reached the hotel again, about mid-afternoon, Betty didn’t want to go in.
“Oh, Mother,” she pleaded, “the streets are so gay, and the people are all going along with bundles and holly wreaths, and it’s all so Christmas-evey, can’t we stay out longer?”
Her mother considered.
“I must go in,” she said, “and I want Lisette to help me. But, if you wish, you four may go for a ride in the Park or along the Avenue. But you must promise not to get out of the cab. The chauffeur is entirely reliable, and if you stay in the cab, you cannot get lost. Be back here in one hour, please.”
“We will,” chorused the four, so Mrs. McGuire and Lisette went into the hotel, and the four delighted young folk went for a further ride.
Their course down the Avenue was slow, owing to the crowded traffic; they had ample opportunity for observing the people, an amusement of which Betty never tired. Then afterwards a short spin in the Park, where the lights had already begun to gleam through the early winter dusk.
“Now for home,” said Jack decisively, when the hour had elapsed; and back they went to their hotel.
But when they entered their own sitting-room, nobody was there, – no tree, no presents, and no sign of any human being.
Betty opened the door of her mother’s bedroom, but that, too, was unoccupied, as, indeed, were all the bedrooms.
Betty looked frightened, and said, in a half-whisper: “Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to Mother?”
Then Jack laughed outright.
“Oh, Betty,” he said; “can’t you guess? I’ll wager Mother and Lisette are in the dining-room, and they’re fixing the tree in there!”
Sure enough, the dining-room door was closed, and when Betty flew to open it, she found it was locked as well.
“Let us in, Mother; let us in!” she cried.
“Not yet, my child,” said Mrs. McGuire, opening the door a tiny crack and peeping out. “You must all amuse yourselves till dinner-time.”
“Oh, can’t we help fix it?” said Jack.
“No; I’ve plenty of help in here, and you must keep out and not bother.”
Then the door was shut and locked again, and the young folks laughed to find themselves with occupation gone.
“All right; let’s get up a surprise for her,” said Betty.
“Oh, yes!” cried Jack; “just the thing! What’ll it be?”
“Wait. I’ll have to think. Oh, I’ll tell you, Jack; you go down to the flower place, and get a lot of white carnations – just heaps of ’em. And then get a lot of holly, and bring ’em all up, and I’ll show you. Oh, wait – get the biggest holly wreath you can find, and a paper of pins!”
Obediently Jack went off, and as the big hotel was able to supply such demands, he brought back everything Betty asked for.
“It won’t be much,” said Betty, as she tied a big towel over her pretty frock for an apron. “Come in my room,