now its branches were of every colour and as it were fringed with light. From the lowest bough to the topmost shoot it was a cone of brilliancy and a pyramid of riches. Lights glittered from every twig, and among the lights, below them and above them, near the stem and out at the tips of the bending boughs and covering the moss which covered the tub, were trinkets or toys or articles of wear or packages done up in white or coloured paper and made gay with coloured ribbands. So bountiful a tree, so elegant a tree, one so rich in its resources of pleasure, perhaps no eyes there had ever seen; for when Mrs. Lloyd did anything she was accustomed to do it thoroughly; and she had on this occasion two backers. One burst of admiration from the whole little crowd was followed by accents of delight and murmurs of expectation.
The tree stood in the middle of the large drawing-room, and the bright crowd which formed round it was surely a pretty sight. A sight for the elders alone; no child had eyes for anything but the tree. Eager eyes; glad eyes; sparkling and glowing with delight and expectation; a little, soft, rustling, hustling crowd, swaying gently, agitated, moved here and there, to and fro, but all fastened to that brilliant centre of a Christmas tree, as much as ever the planets to their centre. At the very back of the crowd, as she was, Matilda stepped on an ottoman to see better; and for her even expectation was almost lost in bewildered fascination. In truth the Christmas tree was a beautiful spectacle. The fairy-like beauty was what Matilda thought of at first; then she began gradually to notice how its branches were laden with other things besides lights, and how the little company was all on tiptoe with eagerness. With a certain faint flutter at her own heart, Matilda stood on her perch and watched.
Presently a tall young fellow, one of the oldest among the boys, took his stand by the tree with a long gilt rod in his hand. The crowd fell back a bit, and hushed its murmur and rustle. No danger of anybody seeing Matilda; not an eye turned her way. The lad with the gilt rod, who also was decorated with a favour of red and white ribbands, now lifted down from the tree one of its many packages, looked close at it, and called aloud the name written thereon. A name Matilda did not know. The crowd stirred in out place and a little figure came forward and took the package. Matilda wanted to know what it was, very much; but the little girl herself made no haste to discover. A slight private examination she gave, and with a smile and a blush clasped her little hand upon the package and looked to see what would be next. The play went on after this fashion; the presiding gilt rod was quick in its operations, as indeed it had need to be; names were called out in rapid succession; and presently the whole circle was astir, with coming and going, explanations and questions and whispers of delight, now and then a spring or a dance of exultation; and still the gilt rod went on hooking down things from the tree and signalling the owners to come and take possession.
"Mrs. Laval! – from Matilda. I suppose Mrs. Laval knows who Matilda is?" – said the master of ceremonies. A new thrill went all through the distant possessor of that name. "That's my obelisk!" she thought. "I wonder if she will like it? Yes, she knows Matilda, a little."
"Norton Laval! – from his sister. I didn't know that Norton had a sister."
"The things you don't know are always more than the things you do know, Edward Foster," said Norton coming forward to receive his watch-guard.
"'You' meaning – whom?" said gilt rod, hooking down another ribband-looped parcel. "By virtue of my office I know so many things just now, that I grow conceited, and am surprised to find myself ignorant any where. Matilda Laval! – from her mother."
With a great leap of her heart, Matilda jumped down from her ottoman and made her way as she could through the throng. The tall boy with the gilt rod presented to her a small square packet, sealed and tied. Matilda's fingers clasped upon it as she stepped back; and then for the first time that evening she found Judy at her side. Perhaps Judy would have spoken, if the next call had not been,
"Matilda Laval! – from Mrs. Bartholomew."
Flushing and trembling, Matilda stepped forward again and received a second little packet, much like the former. Then Judy herself was called; everybody by this time was getting his hands full; and still the Christmas tree blazed on as brightly as ever.
Presently Matilda got a third present; this was from David; much larger. She was very much astonished; for without opening she could guess that it was something valuable; it was hard and square and heavy. Of all there, not a child was in such private ecstasies as she. Her flushed cheeks told it; otherwise she was quite undemonstrative. Though I say wrong; for eyes and lips were abundantly expressive of tremulous joy.
"Is that my present?" said Judy, by her side again. "No, it is David's. Do you know what it is?"
"No," Matilda whispered.
"I don't either. Why don't you look?"
"I will look by and by."
"Nonsense!" said Judy; but Matilda was called off again to take what Judy had prepared for her.
"That isn't much," said that young lady, when Matilda fell back to her former place; "it's only bonbons. What has aunt Zara given you?"
"I don't know yet, Judy."
"O look. And mamma. Mamma wouldn't tell me. Those are their gifts in your hand there, aren't they? Look, and see. I can guess," said Judy peering round Matilda to see the packets.
"No, you can't," said Norton at the other side. He was fastening his guard-chain in its place. "You don't know, and she don't know. I like people who can keep cool, and not dash their heads under water the first thing."
"Stuff!" said Judy. "I want her to get her head above water; she don't see anything now, nor know anything."
"Her head's all right," said Norton composedly. "Knowledge'll come in time. I guess there's a good deal of it to come, too."
"What has David got, Norton?"
"Loads of books," said Norton. "And a rifle."
"A rifle!" screamed Judy.
"And a dressing-case. And a dressing-gown. And a riding-whip. And a watch-chain."
"And what have you got, Norton?" Matilda asked.
"Just what I wanted," said Norton, with a smile of confidence and secret good fellowship which was most pleasant to Matilda; it made her feel not quite so much alone in that crowd. "You shall see," he went on. "Hallo! you're called. Give me some of your traps to hold for you, Pink; you have not got a hand to take anything more."
So Matilda gave him her bonbons and box, if it were a box, to hold, while she went for ward again. This present was from Norton, and of itself filled her arms. Wrapped up in papers as it was, she could not know more of it than that. She came back to Norton with high-coloured cheeks and eyes very bright indeed.
"What's that?" said Judy. "What has Norton given you? it's big enough. Pshaw! I know; it's a desk."
"A desk!" exclaimed Matilda in tones of delight.
"Keep your own counsel, Judy," said Norton coolly. "You have no idea of keeping other people's."
"Norton," said Esther coming up to them, "who is the witch?"
"Can't tell, even if I know," said Norton. "I keep other people's counsel."
"But where are we to see her?"
"In her den, of course."
"Where's that?"
"You will know when the time comes."
"Then
