“A Merry Christmas”

Outside, in the compound, the night's frost is still lying white and thickly, for the sun has not yet arisen; it is only a little after five o'clock. The day is full of promise, a promise of sun-gold and glory, for the second monsoon has long since passed along its way.

Even now, early as it is, numerous bands are busy playing “their” Christmas Carols—all play the one tune, “Queen, Queen Caroline,” but who cares? To-day is that of “Peace on the Earth, Goodwill to Man,” and the native bandsmen are demanding their right to participate—who shall deny them? At the bottom of it all is magic “buksheesh”—why not? Today is the “Sahib Logue's great day of rejoicing—their Day of Days.”

All last week the servants had spent much time in their preparation for decorative effect—bouquets and garlands are artistically arranged throughout the bungalow—festoons of crimson and green poinsettia leaves, alternately, gaily drape and brighten the walls—hang in beautifully quaint designs across the porches and gateways. The servants have all got their little gifts for the “Baba Logue” and are eager to distribute these, to be the first to give—such is the wonderful spirit of Christmas.