[Grace Harlowe’s Senior Year at High School by Jessie Graham Flower]@TWC D-Link book
Grace Harlowe’s Senior Year at High School

CHAPTER XI
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His long white cotton beard flowed realistically down to his waist, and in his folded hands was a placard bearing these words, "Gone to sleep for the next hundred years," while in the opposite corner his sister and the rest of the guests had grouped themselves, and as the old gentleman stepped over the threshold, a chorus of laughing voices rang out: "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" Then Grace glided forward and escorted the judge to a sort of double throne that had been improvised from two easy chairs raised to a small platform constructed by the boys, and draped with the piano cover, and a couple of silken curtains, while Santa Claus performed the same office for Miss Putnam.
After they had been established with great pomp and ceremony, Santa Claus awoke Father Time by shaking him vigorously, apologizing to the company between each shake for doing so, and promising to put him to sleep the moment the festivities were over.
Then the fun of distributing the presents began, and for the next hour a great unwrapping and rattling of papers ensued, mingled with constant exclamations of surprise and delight from all present, as they opened and admired their gifts.
The judge was particularly pleased with the little personal gifts that the girls themselves had made for him, and exclaimed with the delight of a schoolboy as he opened each one.

At last nothing remained save one rather imposing package.
"This must be something very remarkable," said the judge, as he untied the bow of scarlet ribbon and unwrapped the folds of tissue paper, disclosing a cut glass inkstand, with a heavy silver top, on which were engraved his initials in block letters.
There was a general murmur of admiration from all.
"Very fine, very fine," said the judge, picking up the card which read, "Merry Christmas, from Miss Barber." "Miss Barber ?" he repeated questioningly.

Then it dawned upon him that this expensive gift was from one of his guests.
"Pardon me, my dear," he said turning to Marian, who looked half complacent, half embarrassed.

"I am an old man and don't always remember names as well as I should.

The beauty of your gift quite overcame me.
Allow me to thank you and express my appreciation of it." Marian smiled affectedly at the judge's words, in a manner so foreign to her former, blunt, good-natured self, that the girl chums watched her in silent amazement.
But the judge's inkstand was merely the fore-runner of surprises.


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