‘V--# 
^H5l K3iS>l l5Hir 
TI w Ojrtrtw®- 
rniBi K^C^ Iol jl a i 
abandoned homestead had proved too stiff for such using—so 
had the bigger pine tassels. So also had the disappointing mis¬ 
tletoe — hence all were relegated to the flat groups over doors and 
windows, at the head of cat-brier trails. Cat-brier, known 
politely as southern smilax, was after a sort a providence — grace¬ 
ful do what you would with it, and nothing like so littery as 
holly and cedar. Wreath-making was forbidden — wreaths were 
too artificial and citified, Nancy and Mary March agreed. 
Besides, apart from nature's curves they both held to straight 
lines; the green rope ran true along the top of the wainscot, it 
came just level with the mantel shelf, outlined door and window 
casings, and followed accurately the fine lines of the great stair¬ 
way. The broad first landing opposite the entrance had a 
window, south-looking and deeply recessed, and there the best 
of the house plants were massed. Nancy had trained rampant 
asparagus ferns over long wires for that particular situation. A 
little bending shaped a frame of lacy green for the window. 
Within it bloomed a savagely splendid Amaryllis. It had sent up 
half a dozen flower stalks — though the earliest blossoms had 
faded there were still many ruby chalices to catch and glorify all 
manner of light. The pot, half sunk in the window box, was 
hedged thickly with white narcissus, in bud, ready for Christmas 
blooming. At one side there was a white camellia full of rich 
buds ready to burst, on the other a Daphne already in half-blow. 
These Nancy had nurtured specially in her pit, and would send 
back there after the holiday time. They were placed first thing, 
after the wainscot rope was tacked up. The canopy ropes waited 
until the ribboning was done, and evergreen plaques in place. 
Mary March thought 
out the ribboning after 
Nancy entreated, “Do 
have something new — 
and different.” Satin 
ribbon, five inches 
broad, of soft thick 
quality and the richest 
holly red, was loosely 
knotted, leaving a 
full yard between knots, then a heavy perfect pine tassel thrust 
through a knot, and its stem wired tight to a flat branch of holly. 
The stalks, previously dovetailed, were hidden by the knotted 
ribbon, then spray and tassel tacked firmly with the finest brads 
to the wainscot, standing diagonally, and at such a height the 
connecting ribbon ran fifteen inches beneath the green rope line. 
The ribbon was not drawn taut, only enough to hold it straight. 
A very fine tack or so midway kept it firmly in place; the droop¬ 
ing pine tassels, the upstanding holly, patterned against dark 
wood, quite transformed the hall. It was nearly square. Green 
rope carried up each corner, within two feet of the ceiling, then 
led diagonally to the corner opposite, but looped in passing over 
a strong hook in the center gave a cathedral effect, until the cross¬ 
ing was tied with big loops of the holly-colored ribbon. Long 
ends fell from the loops, and upheld a fern ball, stuck full of 
holly and misletoe, in their fullest berry. A smaller ball, whose 
foundation was a huge Irish potato, bored with a gimlet to re¬ 
ceive the stems, hung in the fan-light over the front door. Still 
green with boughs and the berried tendrils of the partridge vine 
( 357 ) 
