The dressing-table had a row of three little drawers on either side, and in these Jean kept the small eatables that were to go into the stockings--things made of chocolate, packets of almonds and raisins, big sugar "bools." To Mhor a great mystery hung over the dressing-table.

No mortal hand had placed those things there; they were fairy things, and might vanish any moment.

On Christmas morning he ate his chocolate frog with a sort of reverence, and sucked the sugar "bools" with awe.
A caller at The Rigs had once exclaimed in astonishment that an intelligent child like the Mhor still believed in Santa Claus, and Jean had replied with sudden and startling ferocity, "If he didn't believe I would beat him till he did." Happily there was no need for such extreme measures: Mhor believed implicitly.
Jock had now grown beyond such beliefs, but he did nothing to undermine Mhor's trust.

He knew that the longer you can believe in such things the nicer the world is.
The Jardines always felt about Christmas Day that the best of it was over in the morning--the stockings and the presents and the postman, leaving long, over-eaten, irritable hours to be got through before bedtime and oblivion.
This year Jock had drawn out a time-table to ensure that the day held no longueurs.
7.30 Stockings.
8.30 Breakfast.
9 Postman.
10-12 Deliver small presents to various friends.
1 Luncheon at the Jowetts'.
4 Tea at home and present-giving.
5-9 Devoted to supper and variety entertainment.
This programme was strictly adhered to except by the Mhor in the matter of his stocking, which was grabbed from the bed-post and cuddled into bed beside him at least two hours before the scheduled time; and by the postman, who did not make his appearance till midday, thereby greatly disarranging things.
The day passed very pleasantly: the luncheon at the Jowetts' was everything a Christmas meal should be, Mrs.M'Cosh surpassed herself with bakemeats for the tea, the presents gave lively satisfaction, but _the_ feature of the day was the box that arrived from Pamela and her brother.

It was waiting when the family came back from the Jowetts', standing in the middle of the little hall with a hammer and a screw-driver laid on the top by thoughtful Mrs.M'Cosh--a large white wooden box which thrilled one with its air of containing treasures.