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A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock. "Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the door for her servant, who was gasping under the weight of a packing-case. "Set it down on the rug by the fire-place. I am going to look it over and burn up the rubbish this evening." She glanced once more at the letter in her hand, then with a sniff tossed it upon the fire. "Yes'm," said Norah, as she set down the box with a thump. She stooped once more to pick up something which had fallen out when the cover was jarred open. It was a pink papier-mâché angel, such as are often hung from the top of Christmas trees as a crowning symbol. Norah stood holding it between thumb and finger, staring amazedly. Who would think to find such a bit of frivolity in the house of Miss Terry! Her mistress looked up from the fire, where the bit of writing was writhing painfully, and caught the expression of Norah's face. "What have you there?" she asked, frowning, as she took the object into her own hands. "The Christmas Angel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I had quite forgotten it." Then as if it burned her fingers she thrust the little image back into the box and turned to Norah brusquely. "There, that's all. You can go now, Norah," she said. "Yes'm," answered the maid. She hesitated. "If you please'm, it's Christmas Eve." "Well, I believe so," snapped Miss Terry, who seemed to be in a particularly bad humor this evening. "What do you want?" Norah flushed; but she was hardened to her mistress's manner. "Only to ask if I may go out for a little while to see the decorations and hear the singing." "Decorations? Singing? Fiddlestick!" retorted Miss Terry, poker in hand. "What decorations? What singing?" "Why, all the windows along the street are full of candles," answered Norah;