'"
They were very near now, nearer than Jean realized, for, as the
last line died away, the front door swung open and the singers
appeared on the threshold, with rosy cheeks and shining eyes,
exclaiming in a jovial chorus,--
"Merry Christmas, Jean!"
And Jean stood in amazement, while Alan and Polly set down the
great basket that they carried, and the six friends pulled off
their coats and hats and prepared to spend a long evening.
What need to linger over the unpacking of the great basket, to
listen to the fun as the simple presents and absurd jokes came to
light, one after another, while Jean now wiped away a tear or two
over Katharine's dainty gift, now laughed convulsively over some
ridiculous prank of Alan's plotting? And all the time, the chorus
went on, now explaining, now joking, but always bringing to Jean
the welcome assurance that her friends did not forget her even in
her absence.
It was a successful evening, they all said again and again, as
they gathered at the door in the starlight; and Jean stood looking
after them with happy eyes as they marched off through the snow,
gaily singing the dear old carol,--
"'God rest ye, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ, the Saviour,
Was born upon this day.
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