gold; apples and nuts were steadily disappearing from a basket by the
Doctor's chair and the Doctor himself was relating an original Christmas
tale of adventure, born of uncommon inspiration and excitement, to a
huddled group with circular eyes and contented stomachs. But
Muggs--inimitable workman--his small face partially obscured by the
biggest apple in the basket, had not yet spoken, and Jim, the shy,
sullen little boy to whom Roger had taken a fancy because he was lame,
had met the Doctor's eyes but once, and then with a rush of color.

Now, whether it was the scheming excitement of a busy day or the warmth
of a busy log or the rambling yarn of a busy Doctor, who may say?
Certainly Roger fell asleep at a fictional crisis and remained asleep
for all that Jim furtively nudged him.

"There!" said the Doctor as the clock struck eight, "that's all. To bath
and beds, every one of you! Annie's had a lamp on the kitchen table this
half hour ready to light you up the stairs. My! My! My!--but there's a
busy day ahead. Roger! Well, of all ungrateful listeners! Roger!"

But in the end, the Doctor carried Roger up to bed, preceded by Annie
with the lamp. And while Annie was turning back quilts and smoothing
pillows and fumbling at windows, with the freedom of long service she
soundly berated the Doctor for postponing the bed-time hour with his
Christmas twaddle.

"And Mister Muggs there," she said severely, "has had one apple too
many, I'm thinkin', and the last one as big as his head. He'll need a
pill before morning. The child's packed himself that hard and round ye
fear to touch him." And then because Muggs was such a very little boy
Annie was minded to assist with his bath, and laid kindly hands upon an