'How radishing!' said Mabel in a whisper. 'I always said he wasn't a miser. He's a magician.'
'What a lovely, lovely room!' sighed Phyllis.
'What's it made of?' asked Guy downrightly.
'Oyster-shells,' said Sir Christopher, 'and pearl beads.'
And it was.
'Oh!' said Mabel gaily, 'then that's what you go prowling about in dirty gutters for?'
'Don't be rude, Mab dear!' whispered Phyllis.
But the old gentleman did not seem to mind. He just said, 'Yes, that's it' in an absent sort of way. He seemed to be thinking about something else. Then he said, 'The Christmas-tree.'
The children had forgotten all about the Christmas-tree.
When its seventy-two candles were lighted the pearly room shone and glimmered like a fairy palace in a dream.
'It's many a year since my little girl had such a Christmas-tree,' he said. 'I don't know how to thank you.'
'Seeing your pearly halls is worth all the time and money,' said Mabel heartily.
And Phyllis added in polite haste:
'And you being pleased.'
