Several days passed and grandfather seemed to improve. The spirit of Christmas pervaded everything, and even the invalid playfully asked Alsie if she could give him a hint as to what he might find in his sock on the eventful morning. Uncle Dick had been instructed to bring home all the Santa Claus posters that might be found in the newspaper office or bookshop, and there was already quite a stack of colored pictures on hand, showing Santa Claus in every stage of his wonderful yearly trip round the earth. Both Alices had spent some time selecting the little white Santa and sleigh for the top of the pie. The reindeer were hitched, tandem style, to the sleigh, harnessed and reined with the gayest red ribbon.

The packages and letters began to come, in considerable numbers, during the next few days, and several more “plums” were given into Alice’s care, not to mention the dates, raisins, currants, and the like, for every check or coin was classified with the fruit, for the filling of the pie. It began to look as if that pie was to be a very rich one after all.

One morning, several days before Christmas, Mrs. Gordon came out of the sick-chamber, to the breakfast table, with a beaming face, saying:

“Captain Gordon spent the best night he has had in months, and he feels so bright and well that he wants to be brought into the library and rest awhile on the couch there.”

What joy this announcement brought to them all! The rolling chair was drawn forth, and little Alsie led the way from one room to another with feet that fairly danced.

No ill effects followed the experiment, and it was repeated the next day with even greater success. It really appeared that some of the most persistent features of Captain Gordon’s illness were yielding, perhaps, to the treatment at any rate, the beloved invalid was better, and the leaden weight of apprehension, which had so burdened the hearts of each one of them, was disappearing and a wonderful joy was taking its place.

A white-winged, invisible guest had arrived, before time, to spend the Christmastide with them. It was the Angel of Hope, sent by the pitying hand of the Father in Heaven, and with it came peace, joy, love, and merriment.

What a host of Christmas cards came in, on the morning mail, just preceding Christmas Day. Little Alsie was almost wild to begin work on the pie. After breakfast, Aunt Alice said calmly, “Alsie, come with me, for I have an important errand, and would like to have company.”

“O, Auntee, how can you be so composed when there’s such a big pile of bundles in your bedroom closet, and have you seen the lovely palm sent to grandfather by the members of his literary club? It’s a beauty, and so big that it looks almost like a small tree!”

They wended their way to Alice’s room, and locked the door. Going to the closet, Alice brought forth the largest round hat-box that any of them had ever seen. It must have been two feet or more in diameter, but it was only seven or eight inches high.

The Christmas paper was next brought out, and what a wonderful variety there was Santa Claus, in all phases of his yearly trip, was pictured on some rolls, while festoons of holly and ribbon were outlined against a background of white on others.

After considerable discussion and comparing of effects, it was finally decided that the outside crust of the pie should be of white paper, decorated in holly and ribbon, so the needles and pastepot were both used in preparing the lower portion of the box. The top was treated in an entirely different fashion. It was covered over with the whitest of white cotton batting, and the glistening little sleigh was securely fastened to the center of the top. Fragments of the cotton fell over the edges, and when Alice sprinkled over this, the “diamond dust,” it looked as if real icicles were dropping from a bank of glistening snow.

“Auntee, it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen!” exclaimed Alsie enthusiastically, after the lining had been neatly pasted in.

Then began the work of fixing up the packages to fill the pie. Aunt Bettie’s contribution was unique a beaten-biscuit gentleman, some twelve inches tall, who was certainly most “fearfully and wonderfully” made. The eyes, which had been so carefully put in with a fork, were a little too close together, and the dough nose, which had been so anxiously applied, had risen unduly in the baking, to the great detriment of the biscuit gentleman’s appearance. The mouth was all right, however big and smiling. His legs looked very much like he had a bad case of locomotor ataxia, but the buttons on his coat were quite regular and his arms hung at his sides like ramrods.

After careful inspection which occasioned considerable laughter, the beaten-biscuit man was rolled up in tissue paper and placed in a Christmas box “just his size.” On the card was this message: “The Bible says, ’Love your enemies’ here is an enemy for you to conquer,” for it was a well-known fact that grandfather found it hard to overcome his dislike of the “hardtack,” as he denominated the beaten biscuit prepared for him.

The doctor’s turkey was next inspected a nice little brown roasted fowl in appearance, but in reality one of the cunning little pasteboard devices that Alsie had so often seen in the confectioners’ shops. There was plenty of stuffing too, for Dr. Emerson had filled it full of pills and capsules. There were pink pills and blue pills and green pills and lavender pills, and hidden among them was the prescription, with one end sticking out of the opening. It read: “For Captain Gordon Pills of every color, size, and variety, warranted to cure every known pain or ache to be taken with your Christmas pie.” The little turkey was carefully wrapped in tissue paper and garnished with a spray of holly.

Next came the tiny basket of fresh eggs from the merry little next-door neighbor, whose big, fine chickens had been coaxed to lay a dozen eggs for the Christmas pie. The basket would not hold the dozen O no! for its greatest capacity was four; but the remaining eight were set away in a safe corner of the pantry. The four eggs were laid in a perfect nest of red and white tissue paper, and holly and ribbon were twined round the edges and handle of the basket. On the card was written the following bit of rhyme:

“Now, what can be nicer
Than for folks to remember
The friends that they love
With fresh eggs in December?”

“We shall have to get help, Alsie just look at the books to be put in, and half the presents sent by the children must be wrapped and tied up, for you know every single thing must have a ribbon attached, by which it is to be pulled out of the pie.”

So Alsie was cautiously sent out to get her cousin Emily, the oldest granddaughter in the family, a quiet young girl of fourteen, who was exceedingly fond of reading.

“For goodness sake, let’s get the books all in the pie before Emily gets here, Auntee, for she will want to read a little out of each one to see what it is like, and we’ll get no help from her,” exclaimed Alsie.

Aunt Alice laughed, and replied, “Well, we must get through this work somehow, for Uncle Dick is coming out early this afternoon with the cedar, holly, and mistletoe, and will help us decorate the library. Speaking of cedar, let me show you what dear Aunt Cecile has sent in her Christmas box, besides the gifts.”

Taking off the top, Alice lifted out a huge bunch of beautiful galax leaves and another of the daintiest sprays of evergreen.

“Just a suggestion of the bracing mountain air which you are to enjoy with me as soon as you are well enough to travel,” was the message that came with it, for Aunt Cecile lived far away in a mountain climate, and was deeply disappointed at not being able to spend this holiday season at home, as she had intended. All sorts of curiously shaped packages were taken out and laid aside for the various members of the household, but the largest share was to go in the pie. Tiny Bess had made a big shaving-ball at kindergarten, and this was sent to grandfather with a Christmas greeting. Bobby’s contribution was a highly decorated three-layer blotter with grandfather’s name and address in red ink on the top layer. It was not a thing of beauty, being the work of his own clumsy little hands, but he felt sure it would be appreciated, for he had heard grandfather wish so often that “somebody” wouldn’t take away the blotters from his desk.

“I have such a cute little lemon that I want to put in the pie, Auntee, and yet I don’t know exactly how to work it in. It would be too unkind to say that anybody would ‘hand out a lemon’ to dear, sick grandfather, but it’s so tiny and cunning hardly bigger than a lime. The groceryman found it in a box of lemons and gave it to me, asking if I needed anything that size for the pie you know I told him all about it. He said there was nothing in his Christmas stock too good for the Captain, and he’d like to send something, but it really seemed like all his goodies were forbidden fruit.”

“We’ll put the message in with the lemon, Alsie, and that will make it both funny and kind.” So the tiny specimen was done up in a dainty box and on the large card was written: “The groceryman offered his choice stock of figs, dates, confections, and fruits for Captain Gordon’s Christmas pie, but found nothing acceptable but a small-sized lemon, which he presents with the hope that it will furnish all the tartness necessary.”

“Have you opened Aunt Margie’s box yet?” was the question asked by Alsie as the work of filling the pie was drawing to a close.

“I opened that some days ago,” replied Alice, with a smile. “There were a good many things in that box for general distribution, and, by the way, Alsie, this goes into the pie, but I think it will interest you as much as father.”

She had stepped to her dresser, and opened a drawer while speaking, and now held up to view what seemed to be simply an envelope. On turning it over, however, a pretty little border of holly was disclosed, painted around the edges. “A Reminiscence” was written in the center.

“What is it, Auntee?” exclaimed Alsie, reaching out her hand.

“We’ll let you guess awhile, dearie. I am going to drop it in the pie now, and that will be one of the surprises that you will enjoy with grandpa.”

Alsie was quite curious over the Reminiscence, and wondered what it could contain to be of such interest to her.

“Well, I won’t have to wait long, anyhow,” she finally exclaimed, with a laugh.

“One of the presents will have to stay on ice until to-morrow morning,” explained Alsie to Emily, “but we’ll show you the card. It’s from Mr. McDonald, the druggist. He’s been on a little hunting trip and this morning sent over the finest, fattest little quail you ever saw. On the card was written: ’Dear Captain: I filled this prescription for you myself, independent of the doctors, but I think they will approve. Take it to-morrow at one o’clock and see if you don’t feel better.’ Isn’t it a cunning idea? It is to be the last thing put in before grandfather is brought into the library, Emily, so don’t let us forget it.”

“I won’t,” promised Emily; “but where are you going to put all those bottles of wine and brandy, Aunt Alice? Do you think the pie will hold them?”

“If that problem puzzles you, just how do you suppose we are going to get this in the pie?” replied Alice, lifting from its position behind the bed a box so huge that the pie itself seemed almost diminutive in comparison.

“O, Auntee,” cried Alsie in astonishment, “do tell us what it is!”

For answer Alice set the box on the bed, untied the string, and lifted off the top. A dainty and beautiful silken comfort was disclosed to the view of the admiring group. The background was of white, and scattered over it were clusters of the most exquisitely colored pink roses and green leaves. The edges were prettily bound with satin ribbon of an old-rose shade, and a huge bow adorned the center.

“It is made of the warmest and softest wool, and every stitch was put in by hand,” murmured Alice softly, smoothing the comfort caressingly. “It is beautiful to look at, but by far the most beautiful part to father will be the thought that every one of his teachers wished to have a hand in the giving of his Christmas gift, and to this end they came together, with needles and thimbles, and the stitches were veritably put in with love.”

“But the pie won’t hold it, Aunt Alice what are you going to do about it?” inquired practical little Emily.

“This big box goes behind the piano, and any other packages that can’t be accommodated inside the pie, will be hidden around in various other little corners of the room. My plan is to have the cards in the pie, however, and as they are drawn out, the directions as to where the packages they represent are deposited, can be followed. Is that a good idea, Alsie, or do you think of something better?”

“It can’t be improved upon, Auntee you always think of the best plans. But let’s hurry up now and finish, for the pie is about as full as it will hold.”

A half hour more of work, and the pie was finished.