door. Then Junior whispered, "Ready!" and opened the door. A chorus of Merry Christmases burst like a dozen stars from a giant rocket.
Mrs. Harvey sat bolt upright in bed. There they were upon her—all the children, all the in-laws, all the grandchildren—all the dear, dear family, all but Myron. Secretly hidden behind the door of the adjoining room, one eye shut, the other held close against the open crack by the hinge, stood Myron Harvey, on tiptoes now, better to observe the expression on Martha's face, as upon the counterpane, where two hours before had lain the solitary little square of sunlight, now began to grow a mound of packages, all shapes and sizes.
As he gazed he heard the children's tumultuous voices: "I made this, every stitch "; "Got to get well to wear mine"; "Wonder if you like jewelry"; "Hope you need what I chose," and intermingled in the turmoil, he caught Martha's gentle ejaculations, "Well, well!" "I declare!" and "Did you ever!"
"Now you're not to worry with all this or get excited, mother," ordered Mary's fresh voice.
"Dr. Mason said," put in Linda, "that we were just to pop in and pop out again. We're all going right down-stairs, and while you're open-
