Chappell, and, for
that matter, who is Bruce, if his real name be not
Kuypers?"
And they all laughed heartily. People got back their
self-possession a little, and Mr. Kuypers explained.
"I am Bruce Kuypers," said he, "though your father
does not seem to remember the Kuypers part."
"No," said Mr. Molyneux, "I cannot remember the
Kuypers part, but the Bruce part I remember very well."
"My mother was Mrs. Kuypers before she married Mr.
Chappell, and Mr. Chappell died when my brother Ben was
six years old, and little Lizzy was a baby."
"Lizzy was my godchild," said Mrs. Molyneux, who now
remembered everything.
"Certainly she was, Mrs. Molyneux, and last month
Lizzy was married to as good a fellow as ever presided
over the melting of ingots. We marry them earlier at the
West than you do here."
"Where Lizzie would have been," he said more gravely,
addressing Tom again, "where my mother would have been,
or where I should have been but for your father and
mother here, it would be hard to tell. And all to-day I
have taken it for granted that to him, as to me, this has
been one part of that old Christmas! Surely you
remember?" he turned to Mrs. Molyneux.
Yes, Mrs. Molyneux did remember, but her eyes were
all running over with tears and she did not say so.
"Mr. Molyneux," said Bruce Kuypers, again addressing
Tom, "seventeen years ago this blessed day, there was a
Christmas morning in the poor old tenement above
Massachusetts Avenue such as you never saw, and such as
I hope you never may see.
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