Christmas morning was fun. This year it was more fun than ever because there was Isabel’s baby. He was called John Ward after his grandfather. Jane’s father had been very pleased about that.
Christmas morning was gay. The doorbell kept ringing and Minnie kept bringing in intriguing little packages. Several potted plants had come for Mrs. Ward. They stood on the window seat, underneath the holly wreath. But Mrs. Ward was more interested in her family than in her presents.
“Look out, Isabel!” she said. “Don’t let him suck that cornucopia!”
Isabel exchanged a silent glance with Robin. Suddenly Minnie appeared once more on the threshold. She held a long florist’s box in her arms.
“For Miss Jane,” she said.
“Somebody loves you!” cried Isabel.
Jane jumped up, flushing with pleasure. People didn’t send her flowers very often. Not as they did Flora and Muriel, who had always a bunch of violets on their coat collars. Jane opened the box. Twelve beautiful dark red roses. Jane buried her nose in their dusky petals.
“Who sent them?” cried Isabel.
Jane looked at the card.
“Stephen Carver,” she said. She was very much surprised. She had only seen Stephen Carver twice since Flora’s dance, two weeks ago.
“How nice of him,” remarked her mother. “A young man like that, in a boardinghouse.”
“He can afford it,” said Isabel. “Rosalie says his father is the president of the Bay State Trust Company.”
No one could ever tell Jane’s mother anything about anyone’s father.
“It was said at the time,” she remarked thoughtfully, “that Lily Furness’s sister-in-law married very well.”
Jane took the roses out of the box. Their steins were very long and impressive.
“Get a vase, Minnie,” said Mrs. Ward.
The doorbell rang again. Minnie hurried to answer it. A sound of stifled laughter arose in the hall.
“Don’t announce us, Minnie. We want to surprise them,” said a tittering voice. The library door was flung open and Muriel stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a bright red broadcloth suit, trimmed with black astrakhan fur. Her hands were tightly clasped in a little black muff. A great bunch of white violets was pinned to her shoulder. Behind her loomed the tall figure of Mr. Bert Lancaster.
“Come in!” cried Isabel, scrambling to her feet. Mrs. Ward began to pick up the tissue paper.
Muriel just stood in the doorway and laughed. Her cheeks were bright red from the frosty December air. Her eyes were very starry.
“Merry Christmas!” she said. “Do you know why we’ve come?”
Mrs. Ward stopped picking up the paper. Everyone stared at Muriel.
“We’re engaged!” cried Muriel. She took Mr. Bert Lancaster’s hand and pulled him into the room.
Everyone began talking at once. In the midst of the uproar Jane felt Muriel’s arms around her neck and the cold pressure of her cheek against her own.
“Isn’t it exciting?” said Muriel. She was sitting on the edge of the sofa now, smiling up at all of them. Mr. Lancaster stood looking down at her. He looked just a little embarrassed, Jane thought, but awfully handsome, with his overcoat thrown open over his red muffler and his tall silk hat in his hand. Jane stared at him incredulously. She couldn’t believe that Muriel was going to—marry him. It made Jane feel very queer to think that anyone just her age was really going to marry anyone. And Mr. Bert Lancaster. He was older than Robin. He was older than Freddy Waters. He was almost old enough to be Muriel’s father.
“Look at my ring,” said Muriel, pulling her hand out of the little black muff. It was the largest solitaire that Jane had ever seen.
“Oh—Muriel!” said Isabel reverently.
“We’ve got to go,” said Muriel, jumping up. “We just came for a minute. We’ve got to go and tell Flora.”
Jane saw her mother and Isabel exchange a covert glance.
“We’ll be married Easter Week,” said Muriel. “Of course, Jane, darling, I want you for a bridesmaid. Rosalie’s going to be matron of honour,” She was out in the hall already. She was hanging on Mr. Lancaster’s arm. Jane and Isabel and Robin trouped with them to the front door. It was barely closed before Jane heard her mother’s voice upraised in shocked surprise in the library.
“Well—it’s happened,” she said.
They all went back to the tree.
“Mrs. Lester did all she could,” said Isabel.
“And she’s going over, now, to tell Flora.” For a moment Jane’s mother’s eyes met Isabel’s.
“Do you suppose,” said Isabel at last, “that Muriel really knows?”
“Everyone knows,” said Mrs. Ward. There was a brief pause.
“Oh, well,” said Mrs. Ward, “we must let bygones be bygones.”
“Just the same—” said Isabel. Then, “I suppose Flora will be a bridesmaid.”
“Lily Furness,” said Mrs. Ward very firmly, “is just reaping what she sowed.”
Jane was glad to hear the doorbell ring again. In a moment Minnie appeared on the threshold.
“Mr. Carver,” she said, “for Miss Jane.” Stephen Carver’s tall blond head was visible over her shoulder. Mrs. Ward made another dive at the tissue paper.
“This room is a sight,” she murmured hurriedly.
“Merry Christmas!” said Jane.
Stephen Carver advanced into the library a little shyly. He had never met Isabel. In shaking hands he almost stepped on the baby. Robin snatched his son from the path of danger.
“Isn’t this nice?” said Stephen. “I didn’t think I was going to see a Christmas tree.”
“Your roses were beautiful,” said Jane. Stephen looked very much pleased.
“Sit down, Mr. Carver,” said Jane’s mother.
“Have a cigarette,” said Robin.
“Christmas at Miss Miller’s must be rather dreary,” said Isabel.
Jane’s father was looking at Stephen rather steadily behind a cloud of cigar smoke. He looked pleased at what he saw, however, and a little amused. Stephen turned to Jane.
“I—I hope you don’t mind my dropping in like this,” he said, “on a family party.” His smile was still a little shy. Jane beamed at him reassuringly.
“Why don’t you stay to luncheon?” said Mrs. Ward very cordially. “Since you’re just at that boardinghouse.”
Stephen’s face lit up.
“I’d love to,” he said. “If—If—”
Jane’s eyes began to twinkle.
“Don’t hesitate,” she said
