(~Editor.~ _Now for the robin._
~Author.~ _I am very sorry. I have just remembered something rather sad. The fact is that, two days before, Elsie had forgotten to feed the robin, and in consequence it had died before this story opens._
~Editor.~ _That is really very awkward. I have already arranged with an artist to do some pictures, and I remember I particularly ordered a robin and a wassail. What about the wassail?_
~Author.~ _Elsie always had her porridge_ ~UPSTAIRS~.)
A terrible thought had come into Robert's head. It was nearly twelve o'clock. The house-party was retiring to bed. He heard the "Good-nights" wafted through the open window; the lights went out, to reappear upstairs. Presently they too went out, and Robert was alone with the darkened house.
The temptation was too much for a conscience already sodden with billiards, golf and cigars. He flung a leg over the sill and drew himself gently into the room. At least he would have one good meal, he too would have his Christmas dinner before the end came. He switched the light on and turned eagerly to the table. His eyes ravenously scanned the contents. Turkey, mince-pies, plum-pudding--all was there as in the days of his youth.
(~Editor.~ _This is better. I ordered a turkey, I remember. What about the mistletoe and holly? I rather think I asked for some of them._
~Author.~ _We must let the readers take something for granted._
~Editor.~ _I am not so sure. Couldn't you say something like this: "Holly and mistletoe hung in festoons upon the wall?"_)
Indeed, even holly and mistletoe hung in festoons upon the wall.
(~Editor.~ _Thank you._)
With a sigh of content Hardrow flung himself into a chair, and seized a knife and fork. Soon a plate liberally heaped with good things was before him. Greedily he set to work, with the appetite of a man who had not tasted food for several hours....
"Dood evening," said a voice. "Are you Father Kwistmas?"
Robert turned suddenly, and gazed in amazement at the white-robed figure in the doorway.
"Elsie," he murmured huskily.
(~Editor.~ _How did he know? And why "huskily"?_
~Author.~ _He didn't know, he guessed. And his mouth was full._)
"Are you Father Kwistmas?" repeated Elsie.
Robert felt at his chin, and thanked Heaven again that he had let his beard grow. Almost mechanically he decided to wear the mask--in short, to dissemble.
"Yes, my dear," he said. "I just looked in to know what you would like me to bring you."
"You're late, aren't oo? Oughtn't oo to have come this morning?"
(~Editor.~ _This is splendid. This quite reconciles me to the absence of the robin. But what was Elsie doing downstairs?_
~Author.~ _I am making Robert ask her that question directly._
~Editor.~ Yes, but just tell me now--between friends.
~Author.~ _She had left her golliwog in the room, and couldn't sleep without it._
~Editor.~ _I knew that was it._)
"If I'm late, dear," said Robert, with a smile, "why, so are you."
The good food and wine in his veins were doing their work, and a pleasant warmth was stealing over Hardrow. He found to his surprise that airy banter still came easy to him.
"To what," he continued, "do I owe the honour of this meeting?"
"I came downstairs for my dolly," said Elsie. "The one you sent me this morning, do you remember?"
"Of course I do, my dear."
"And what have you bwought me now, Father Kwistmas?"
Robert started. If he was to play the rle successfully he must find something to give her now. The remains of the turkey, a pair of finger-bowls, his old hat--all these came hastily into his mind, and were dismissed. He had nothing of value on him. All had been pawned long ago.
Stay! The gold locket studded with diamonds and rubies, which contained Alice's photograph. The one memento of her that he had kept, even when the pangs of starvation were upon him. He brought it from its resting-place next his heart.
"A little something to wear round your neck, child," he said. "See!"
"Thank oo," said Elsie. "Why, it opens!"
"Yes, it opens," said Robert moodily.
"Why, it's Alith! Sister Alith."
(~Editor.~ _Ha!_
~Author.~ _I thought you'd like that._)
Robert leapt to his feet as if he had been shot.
"Who?" he cried.
"My sister Alith. Does oo know her too?"
Alice's sister! Heavens! He covered his face with his hands.
The door opened.
(~Editor.~ _Ha again!_)
"What are you doing here, Elsie?" said a voice. "Go to bed, child. Why, who is this?"
"Father Kwithmath, thithter."
(~Editor.~ _How exactly do you work the lisping?_
~Author.~ _What do you mean? Don't children of Elsie's tender years lisp sometimes?_
~Editor.~ _Yes, but just now she said "Kwistmas" quite correctly_----
~Author.~ _I am glad you noticed that. That was an effect which I intended to produce. Lisping is brought about by placing the tongue upon the hard surface of the palate, and in cases where the subject is unduly excited or influenced by emotion the lisp becomes more pronounced. In this case---- _
~Editor.~ _Yeth, I thee._)
"Send her away," cried Robert, without raising his head.
The door opened, and closed again. "Well," said Alice calmly, "and who are you? You may have lied to this poor child, but you cannot deceive me. You are _not_ Father Christmas."
The miserable man raised his shamefaced head and looked haggardly at her.
"Alice!" he muttered, "don't you remember me?"
She gazed at him earnestly.
"Robert! But how changed!"
"Since we parted, Alice, much has happened."
"Yet it seems only yesterday that I saw you!"
(~Editor.~ _It_ ~WAS~ _only yesterday._
~Author.~ _Yes, yes. Don't interrupt now, please._)
"To me it has seemed years."
"But what are you doing here?" said Alice.