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“Good work, Bob, my boy! It’s great to see you! Have a good trip? You’ve grown since I saw you—how’re the other fellows? How’s Big Chris?” Kingthorpe was quiet and stately and a little awe-inspiring as usual. Miss Melling had gone to town and Uncle Isaac was ill in bed. After a little thought, Johnny Blossom sent the frame in to his uncle by the servant, with his best Christmas wishes. The servant was in livery and always carried a silver tray in his hand. Even when Uncle Isaac had nothing but gruel, he had it on a silver tray! “We’re going to my shack to talk this out. Come along. I want Feather-in-the-Wind and Jerry too. Hoyt, find Mr. Taylor and ask him to report to me at once!”.

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A subdued murmur of assent ran through the room. Yes, indeed. Of course they all knew Johnny Blossom. Just what the pleasure was Johnny Blossom could not exactly understand. Mother planned everything for the party. There should be long tables in the park, where the feast should be spread for the children and most of the grown-up people; but the old and feeble ones whom Johnny invited should have their feast in the beautiful dining room that had angels painted on the ceiling. A band of music was to come from the city. There were to be flags and colored lanterns the entire length of the shady avenue, and when daylight faded and the park began to grow dusky, there would be fireworks—yes, fireworks as true as you live! Mother said so. “What kind of a specimen are you?” asked the stout gentleman..