sacrifices that had to be made; but would it then have been Christmas?
Slowly, very slowly, in the shabby street and snow-filled air, an
understanding of things but dimly glimpsed before was coming to him,
and he was seeing what for long had been unseen.




CHAPTER IX


"Think hard, Father--oh, _please_ think hard! It was Van--Van--"
Carmencita, hands clutched tightly behind her back, leaned forward on
her tiptoes and anxiously peered into her father's face for sign of
dawning memory. "If I hadn't been so Christmas-crazy I'd have listened
better, but I wasn't thinking about his name. Can't you--_can't_ you
remember the last part? It was Van--Van--"

Slowly her father shook his head. "I wish I could, Carmencita. I don't
hear well of late and I didn't catch his name. You called him Mr.
Van."

"I called him that for short. I'm a cutting-down person even in
names." The palms of Carmencita's hands came together and her fingers
interlocked. "If I'd had more sense and manners I'd have called his
name right from the first, and we wouldn't have lost him. I could
have found him to-day if I'd known what to look for in the
telephone-book, or if Miss Frances had been at Mother McNeil's. She
might as well be lost, too, but she'll be back at seven, and that's
why I am going now, so as to be there the minute she gets in, to ask