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 buttonholes, 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 lass who won it by faithful study, and the giver permits me to present it. Come, little lass, 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 shimmered 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.

There was one thing that no one thought of until some time after the party, and it was Leslie who spoke of it, to Rose and Princess Polly.

"Only think!" she said, "Mrs. Harcourt has had three different teachers for Gwen this Winter, because Gwen has acted so that the first and second left, and Gwen said yesterday that the one they have now is to leave next Monday."

"Why _does_ she act so horrid?" said Rose.

"I'll tell you one nice thing about Gwen," said Princess Polly, "and that is that she didn't do one single thing at my party that wasn't nice."

"Why, truly she didn't!" cried Rose and Sprite together.

CHAPTER XI

UNCLE JOHN MAKES A PROMISE

Rain or shine, every Wednesday and Saturday evening found Gyp at the table in the sitting-room at Aunt Judith's cottage, bending over his books.

Aunt Judith, busy with a bit of needlework, looked often at the boy as he bent eagerly over his book, and marvelled that this was the same boy who less than a year ago was a trial to every owner of a garden or orchard.

A puzzled frown puckered his forehead one evening as he worked.

"What is it?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

"Maybe I'll _have_ to let you, but I _think_ I can do it. I'd like to work it out if I can, and I'll try _hard_ before I give up."

For a time he worked in silence, covering his slate with figures.

The clock ticked loudly on the mantel, and seemed to be trying to outdo Gyp's busy pencil.

"Scratch! Scratch!" went the pencil, and "Tick! Tick!" chirped the little clock, and then the boy looked up, his eyes bright with excitement.

"I've done it, Mrs. Aunt Judith!" he cried, "I've done it, and it's right! You said it was better for me to do everything that I _could_ do, by studying and working, instead of being helped."

"It is better, because you will fully understand what you have done, and you will be more likely to remember it.

"But tell me," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, "why do you call me _Mrs._ Aunt Judith?"

He looked frankly up into her face as he answered.

"You aren't my Aunt Judith, tho' I wish you were, so I think I ought to call you something beside the name, so I say _Mrs._ with it."

"Dear boy, you meant to be respectful," she said, "but you are such a good, hard working boy now that you shall call me 'Aunt Judith' just as the other children do."

He hesitated, and she understood.

"They shall not wonder why you do. I'll tell them that I asked you to," she said.

Without a word he picked up his books, took his old cap, and crossed the room.

Wondering that he did not speak she followed him.

At the door he turned, and looking up at her with eyes in which tears glistened he said:

"I'm going to work with all my might, and I mean to be a decent man, and _then_ I'll do something for you,--Aunt Judith."

"Gyp, come back and let me thank you!" she cried when, after her surprise, she caught her breath, but a fit of his old shyness had come over him, and having said what was in his heart, he had at once raced off across the fields, and soon was out of sight or hearing in the dark woods.

Aunt Judith told Captain Atherton all about Gyp's ambition, of his hard work at school, and the evenings spent at the cottage.

"He is determined to get on, and he says that he will not always live like a gypsy.

"He declares that he will be a decent man," she said, "but will not people be so prejudiced that they will not care to employ him?" she asked.

"_No_!" cried the captain, "for I will set aside any notions that they may have by employing him _myself_.

"_I_ will trust him, and this very week I'll tell him so!"

It happened that he met the boy on his way from school.

"How go the lessons, boy?" he asked kindly.

For some reason Gyp was not afraid.

"This is Friday, and I've had every lesson perfect this week. I'm going over to tell Aunt Judith. _She'll_ be glad!"

"Don't you tell the folks at home?" queried Captain Atherton.