"'Father!' and they were locked in each other's embrace.
"Turning to where Mary stood, with her two little ones at her side, my father said with deep emotion:
"'I know now that Maggie's Christmas-box was intended for you. If my white moustache doesn't frighten you, come!"
"She threw herself into his arms, and he imprinted two big, sounding kisses on her cheeks. 'Maggie's gift, my dear—and mine!'
"Mary cried, but her tears were tears of joy and thankfulness. I rather fancy, indeed, everybody cried a little, but my father pretended to blow his nose violently, and turned the matter off by taking Mary's hand, and conducting her to the place of honour at the head of the table. And never was there assembled together a happier Christmas party than was gathered that day around my father’s festive board."
As the old lady spoke these words a loud rat-a-tat-tat! came at the street door.
"Brother Richard!" we all shouted, in unison.
"And that," said grandma, "is the end of my story."
