There was a great party there, and footmen wearing red waistcoats stood at the door.

In the dining-room, which was panelled with black oak, was the Christmas-tree.

Squire Carson stood in front of it.

He was a tall, dark man, very quiet in his manners, and he wore a bunch of seals on his waistcoat.

We used to think him old, but as a matter of fact he was then not more than forty.