The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servants
ready. With myriad lights, gleaming from candles and chandeliers,
reflecting in the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and bronze,
the air sweet with the scent of pine and flowers, the old Manor had
something of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the
old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with a
dour and suspicious eye and Harkness, dignified in his faded livery,
made the "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as he could,
with a heart heavy with doubt as to the "fitness" of Missy's whims.
Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very small in the stately
drawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the
hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as
Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts
on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were
flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in
glee.
True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrived
first.
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