Hands in his pockets, he looked first at Mother
McNeil and then at a little lame boy on the floor beside an open
trunk, out of which he was taking gaily-colored ornaments and
untangling yards of tinsel; and then he looked at Frances, who, with a
big apron over her black dress, with its soft white collar open at the
throat, was holding a pile of empty stockings in her hands.
"You are just in time, my son." Mother McNeil beamed warmly at the
uninvited visitor. "When a man can be of service, it's let him serve,
I say, and if you will get that step-ladder over there and fix this
angel on the top of the tree it will save time. Jenkins has gone for
more tinsel and more bread. We didn't intend at first to have
sandwiches and chocolate--just candy and nuts and things like
that--but it's so cold and snowy Frances thought something good and
hot would taste well. You can slice the bread, Mr. Van Landing. Four
sandwiches apiece for the boys and three for the girls are what we
allow." She looked around. "Hand him that angel, Frances, and show him
where to put it. I've got to see about the cakes.
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