"It's a s'prise!" shrieked Roger, "a Christmasy s'prise! Aunt Ellen she
says you're so awful keen on s'prisin' other folks that we'd show
you--an'--an' you'll have a bang-up Christmas with kids like you love
an' so will I, an' so will they an' the minister he went to the city
and found seven boys crazy for Christmas in the country an'--"

"Roger! Roger!" came Aunt Ellen's gentle voice--"do please take a
breath, child. You're turning purple."

The Doctor adjusted his glasses.

"Seven boys!" he said. "Bless my soul, when I opened that door I saw
seventy boys!" He counted them aloud--then for no reason at all save
that he had glanced into seven eager faces, thinner and sharper than he
liked, for all they glowed with excitement and furtive interest in the
long supper table asparkle with lights and holly, he wiped his glasses
and patted Roger on the back.

"Is your leg botherin' so much now, daddy Doctor?" demanded Roger.

"Nothing like so much," admitted the Doctor.

"Are you lonesome 'nuff now to stick out your chin?"

"Bless your heart, Roger," admitted the Doctor huskily, "I'm so full of
Christmas I can hardly breathe!"

"Hooray!" said Roger. "Me, too."