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On the day before Christmas, big, soft snowflakes drifted slowly down from a lowering gray sky. The snow melted as soon as it fell, and from the sea a raw, wet wind came whining in; but there might have been worse weather, and Johnny Blossom, at any rate, was well content. He was going out to distribute his presents today. It was so pleasant to take them himself to the different persons., In the lofty, echoing rooms everything had been left undisturbed: the furniture with its silken upholstery, the mirrors reaching from floor to ceiling, the great paintings that filled the walls, and the art treasures, gathered from every corner of the world. Many of these tapestries and vases and statues were extremely rare, but to Johnny Blossom they were only queer, especially a certain Indian idol with an ugly face made of gold. Why should any one want that?, Once here, the Indian stopped and took an observation. An almost imperceptible grunt escaped him and, turning on his heel, he motioned Bob to follow. It was a surprising move, for the Indian practically retraced the steps they had just taken. Bob was soon to know the reason, however, for halfway down the hill the Indian spoke, not turning his head..