[Illustration: "SITTING UP IN BED WITH THE QUILTS WRAPPED AROUND HIM."]
"I have no beautiful white strings of pop-corn to hang over it like
wreaths of snow," he said, "so I am going down the lane for some
mistletoe that grows in one of the highest trees. The berries are like
lovely white wax beads."
"You are a good little lad," said the housekeeper, kindly, as she gave
his head an affectionate pat. "I shall have to make something to hang on
that tree myself; some gingerbread figures, maybe. I used to know how to
cut out men and horses and pigs,--nearly all the animals. I must try it
again some day soon."
A happy smile spread all over Jules's face as he thanked her. The words,
"You are a good little lad," sent a warm glow of pleasure through him,
and rang like music in his ears all the way down the lane. How bright
the world looked this frosty December morning! What cheeriness there was
in the ring of Henri's axe as he chopped away at the stove-wood! What
friendliness in the baker's whistle, as he rattled by in his big cart!
Jules found himself whistling, too, for sheer gladness, and all because
of no more kindness than might have been thrown to a dog; a pat on the
head and the words, "You are a good little lad."
* * * * *
Sometime after, it may have been two hours or more, Madame Greville was
startled by a wild, continuous ringing of the bell at her front gate.
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