[Illustration: "'I HAVEN'T GIVEN YOU ANY CHRISTMAS PRESENT. WILL--I--DO?'"] On Christmas Day in the Morning _By_ GRACE S. RICHMOND Illustrated by CHARLES M. RELYEA GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY MCMXI COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY THE RIDGWAY-THAYER COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY * * * * * Illustrations "'I haven't given you any Christmas present. Will--I--do?'" _Frontispiece_ "Stumbling over their own feet and bundles . .. The crew poured into thewarm kitchen" "'The children!' she was saying. 'They--they--John--they must be _here_'" "'Merry Christmas, mammy and daddy!'" * * * * * On Christmas Day in the Morning And all the angels in heaven do sing, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; And all the bells on earth do ring, On Christmas Day in the morning. --OLD SONG. That Christmas Day virtually began a whole year beforehand, with ared-hot letter written by Guy Fernald to his younger sister, Nan, whohad been married to Samuel Burnett just two and one-half years. Theletter was read aloud by Mrs. Burnett to her husband at the breakfasttable, the second day after Christmas. From start to finish it wasupon one subject, and it read as follows: DEAR NAN: It's a confounded, full-grown shame that not a soul of us all got home for Christmas--except yours truly, and he only for a couple of hours. What have the blessed old folks done to us that we treat them like this? I was invited to the Sewalls' for the day, and went, of course--you know why. We had a ripping time, but along toward evening I began to feel worried. I really thought Ralph was home--he wrote me that he might swing round that way by the holidays--but I knew the rest of you were all wrapped up in your own Christmas trees and weren't going to get there. Well, I took the seven-thirty down and walked in on them. Sitting all alone by the fire, by George, just like the pictures you see of "The Birds All Flown, " and that sort of thing. I felt gulpish in my throat, on my honour I did, when I looked at them. Mother just gave one gasp and flew into my arms, and Dad got up more slowly--he has that darned rheumatism worse than ever this winter--and came over and I thought he'd shake my hand off. Well--I sat down between them by the fire, and pretty soon I got down in the old way on a cushion by mother, and let her run her fingers through my hair, the way she used to--and Nan, I'll be indicted for perjury if her hand wasn't trembly. They were so glad to see me it made my throat ache. Ralph had written he couldn't get round, and of course you'd all written and sent them things--jolly things, and they appreciated them. But--blame it all--they were just dead lonesome--and the whole outfit of us within three hundred miles, most within thirty! Nan--next Christmas it's going to be different. That's all I say. I've got it all planned out. The idea popped into my head when I came away last night. Not that they had a word of blame--not they. They understood all about the children, and the cold snap, and Ed's being under the weather, and Oliver's wife's neuralgia, and Ralph's girl in the West, and all that. But that didn't make the thing any easier for them. As I say, next year--But you'll all hear from me then. Meanwhile--run down and see them once or twice this winter, will you, Nan? Somehow it struck me they aren't so young as--they used to be. Splendid winter weather. Margaret Sewall's a peach, but I don't seem to make much headway. My best to Sam. Your affectionate brother, GUY. Gay Nan had felt a slight choking in her own throat as she read thisletter. "We really must make an effort to be there Christmas nextyear, Sam, " she said to her husband, and Sam assented cheerfully. Heonly wished there were a father and mother somewhere in the world forhim to go home to. Guy wrote the same sort of thing, with more or less detail, to Edsonand Oliver, his married elder brothers; to Ralph, his unmarriedbrother; and to Carolyn--Mrs. Charles Wetmore, his other--andelder--married sister. He received varied and more or less sympatheticresponses, to the effect that with so many little children, and suchsnowdrifts as always blocked the roads leading toward North Estabrook, it really was not strange--and of course somebody would go next year. But they had all sent the nicest gifts they could find. Didn't Guythink mother liked those beautiful Russian sables Ralph sent her? Andwasn't father pleased with his gold-headed cane from Oliver? Surelywith such presents pouring in from all the children, Father and MotherFernald couldn't feel so awfully neglected. "Gold-headed cane be hanged!" Guy exploded when he read this lastsentence from the letter of Marian, Oliver's wife. "I'll bet she puthim up to it. If anybody dares give me a gold-headed cane before I'mninety-five I'll thrash him with it on the spot. He wasn't using it, either--bless him. He had his old hickory stick, and he wouldn't havehad that if that abominable rheumatism hadn't gripped him so hard. Heisn't old enough to use a cane, by jolly, and Ol ought to know it, ifMarian doesn't. I'm glad I sent him that typewriter. He liked that, Iknow he did, and it'll amuse him, too--not make him think he's readyto die!" Guy was not the fellow to forget anything which had taken hold of himas that pathetic Christmas home-coming had done. When the year hadnearly rolled around, the first of December saw him at work gettinghis plans in train. He began with his eldest brother, Oliver, becausehe considered Mrs. Oliver the hardest proposition he had to tackle inthe carrying out of his idea. "You see, " he expounded patiently, as they sat and stared at him, "itisn't that they aren't always awfully glad to see the whole outfit, children and all, but it just struck me it would do 'em a lot of goodto revive old times. I thought if we could make it just as much aspossible like one of the old Christmases before anybody gotmarried--hang up the stockings and all, you know--it would give them amighty jolly surprise. I plan to have us all creep in in the night andgo to bed in our old rooms. And then in the morning--See?" Mrs. Oliver looked at him. An eager flush lit his still boyishface--Guy was twenty-eight--and his blue eyes were very bright. Hislithe, muscular figure bent toward her pleadingly; all his argumentswere aimed at her. Oliver sat back in his impassive way and watchedthem both. It could not be denied that it was Marian's decisions whichusually ruled in matters of this sort. "It seems to me a very strange plan, " was Mrs. Oliver's comment, whenGuy had laid the whole thing before her in the most tactful manner hecould command. She spoke rather coldly. "It is not usual to think thatfamilies should be broken up like this on Christmas Day, of all daysin the year. Four families, with somebody gone--a mother or afather--just to please two elderly people who expect nothing of thesort, and who understand just why we can't all get home at once. Don'tyou think you are really asking a good deal?" Guy kept his temper, though it was hard work. "It doesn't seem to me Iam, " he answered quite gently. "It's only for once. I really don'tthink father and mother would care much what sort of presents webrought them, if we only came ourselves. Of course, I know I'm askinga sacrifice of each family, and it may seem almost an insult not toinvite the children and all, yet--perhaps next year we'll try agathering of all the clans. But just for this year--honestly--I doawfully wish you'd give me my way. If you'd seen those two lastChristmas--" He broke off, glancing appealingly at Oliver himself. To his surprise, that gentleman shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth and put afew pertinent questions to his younger brother. Had he thought it allout? What time should they arrive there? How early on the day afterChristmas could they get away? Was he positive they could all crowdinto the house without rousing and alarming the pair? "Sure thing, " Guy declared, quickly. "Marietta--well, you know I'vehad the soft side of her old heart ever since I was born, somehow. Italked it all over with her last year, and I'm solid with her, allright. She'll work the game. You see, father's quite a bit deaf now--" "Father deaf?" "Sure. Didn't you know it?" "Forgotten. But mother'd hear us. " "No, she wouldn't. Don't you know how she trusts everything about thehouse to Marietta since she got that fall--" "Mother get a fall?" "Why, _yes_!" Guy stared at his brother with some impatience. "Don'tyou remember she fell down the back stairs a year ago last October, and hurt her knee?" "Certainly, Oliver, " his wife interposed. "I wrote for you to tell herhow sorry we were. But I supposed she had entirely recovered. " "She's a little bit lame, and always will be, " said Guy, a touch ofreproach in his tone. "Her knee stiffens up in the night, and shedoesn't get up and go prowling about at the least noise, the way sheused to. Marietta won't let her. So if we make a whisper of noiseMarietta'll tell her it's the cat or something. Good Lord! yes--it canbe worked all right. The only thing that worries me is the fear that Ican't get you all to take hold of the scheme. On my word, Ol, "--heturned quite away from his sister-in-law's critical gaze and faced hisbrother with something like indignation in his frank youngeyes--"don't we owe the old home anything but a present tied up intissue paper once a year?" Marian began to speak. She thought Guy was exceeding his rights intalking as if they had been at fault. It was not often that elderlypeople had so many children within call--loyal children who would doanything within reason. But certainly a man owed something to his ownfamily. And at Christmas! Why not carry out this plan at some other-- Her husband abruptly interrupted her. He took his pipe quite out ofhis mouth and spoke decidedly. "Guy, I believe you're right. I'll be sorry to desert my own kids, ofcourse, but I rather think they can stand it for once. If the othersfall into line, you may count on me. " Guy got away, feeling that the worst of his troubles was over. In hisyounger sister, Nan, he hoped to find an ardent ally and he was notdisappointed. Carolyn--Mrs. Charles Wetmore--also fell in heartilywith the plan. Ralph, from somewhere in the far West, wrote that hewould get home or break a leg. Edson thought the idea rather a foolishone, but was persuaded by Jessica, his wife--whom Guy privatelydeclared a trump--that he must go by all means. And so they all fellinto line, and there remained for Guy only the working out of thedetails. * * * * * "Mis' Fernald"--Marietta Cooley strove with all the decision of whichshe was capable to keep her high-pitched, middle-aged voice inorder--"'fore you get to bed I'm most forgettin' what I was to askyou. I s'pose you'll laugh, but Guy--he wrote me partic'lar he wantedyou and his father to"--Marietta's rather stern, thin face took on acurious expression--"to hang up your stockin's. " Mrs. Fernald paused in the door-way of the bedroom opening from thesitting-room downstairs. She looked back at Marietta with her gentlesmile. "Guy wrote that?" she asked. "Then--it almost looks as if he might becoming himself, doesn't it, Marietta?" "Well, I don't know's I'd really expect him, " Marietta replied, turning her face away and busying herself about the hearth. "I guesswhat he meant was more in the way of a surprise for a Christmaspresent--something that'll go into a stockin', maybe. " "It's rather odd he should have written you to ask me, " mused Mrs. Fernald, as she looked out the stockings. Marietta considered rapidly. "Well, I s'pose he intended for me to get'em on the sly without mentionin' it to you, an' put in what he sent, but I sort of guessed you might like to fall in with his idee byhangin' 'em up yourself, here by the chimbley, where the children allused to do it. Here's the nails, same as they always was. " Mrs. Fernald found the stockings, and touched her husband on theshoulder, as he sat unlacing his shoes. "Father, Guy wrote he wantedus to hang up our stockings, " she said, raising her voice a little andspeaking very distinctly. The elderly man beside her looked up, smiling. "Well, well, " he said, "anything to please the boy. It doesn't seemmore than a year since he was a little fellow hanging up his ownstocking, does it, mother?" The stockings were hung in silence. They looked thin and lonely asthey dangled beside the dying fire. Marietta hastened to make themless lonely. "Well, " she said, in a shame-faced way, "the silly boysaid I was to hang mine, too. Goodness knows what he'll find to putinto it that'll fit, 'less it's a poker. " They smiled kindly at her, wished her good night, and went back intotheir own room. The little episode had aroused no suspicions. It wasvery like Guy's affectionate boyishness. "I presume he'll be down, " said Mrs. Fernald, as she limped quietlyabout the room, making ready for bed. "Don't you remember how hesurprised us last year? I'm sorry the others can't come. Of course, Isent them all the invitation, just as usual--I shall always dothat--but it _is_ pretty snowy weather, and I suppose they don't quitelike to risk it. " Presently, as she was putting out the light, she heard Marietta at thedoor. "Mis' Fernald, Peter Piper's got back in this part o' the house, somehow, and I can't lay hands on him. Beats all how cute that cat is. Seem's if he knows when I'm goin' to put him out in the wood-shed. Idon't think likely he'll do no harm, but I thought I'd tell you, so 'fyou heard any queer noises in the night you'd know it was Peter. " "Very well, Marietta"--the soft voice came back to the schemer on theother side of the door. "Peter will be all right, wherever he is. Ishan't be alarmed if I hear him. " "All right, Mis' Fernald; I just thought I'd let you know, " and theguileful one went grinning away. * * * * * _There was a long silence in the quiet sleeping-room. Then, out of thedarkness, came this little colloquy:_ _"Emeline, you aren't getting to sleep. "_ _"I--know I'm not, John. I--Christmas Eve keeps one awake, somehow. Italways did. "_ _"Yes. .. . I don't suppose the children realise at all, do they?"_ _"Oh, no--oh, no! They don't realise--they never will, till--they'rehere themselves. It's all right. I think--I think at least Guy will bedown to-morrow, don't you?"_ _"I guess maybe he will. " Then, after a short silence. "Mother--you'vegot me, you know. You know--you've always got me, dear. "_ _"Yes. " She would not let him hear the sob in her voice. She creptclose, and spoke cheerfully in his best ear. "And you've got me, Johnny Boy!"_ _"Thank the Lord, I have!"_ _So, counting their blessings, they fell asleep at last. But, even insleep, one set of lashes was strangely wet. _ * * * * * "Christopher Jinks, what a drift!" "Lucky we weren't two hours later. " "_Sh-h_--they might hear us. " "Nan, stop laughing, or I'll drop a snowball down your neck!" "Here, Carol, give me your hand. I'll plough you through. Large bodiesmove slowly, of course, but go elbows first and you'll get there. " "Gee _whiz_! Can't you get that door open? I'll bet it's frozen fast. " A light showed inside the kitchen. The storm-door swung open, propelled by force from inside. A cautious voice said low: "That theFernald family?" A chorus of whispers came back at Miss Marietta Cooley: "Yes, yes--let us in, we're freezing. " "You bet we're the Fernald family--every man-Jack of us--not onemissing. " "Oh, Marietta--you dear old thing!" "Hurry up--this is their side of the house. " "_Sh-h-h_--" "Carol, your _sh-h-ishes_ would wake the dead!" [Illustration: "STUMBLING OVER THEIR OWN FEET AND BUNDLES . .. THE CREWPOURED INTO THE WARM KITCHEN"] Stumbling over their own feet and bundles in the endeavour to bepreternaturally quiet, the crew poured into the warm kitchen. BeardedOliver, oldest of the clan; stout Edson, big Ralph, tall and slenderGuy--and the two daughters of the house, Carolyn, growing plump androsy at thirty; Nan, slim and girlish at twenty-four--they were allthere. Marietta heaved a sigh of content as she looked them over. "Well, I didn't really think you'd get here--all of you. Thank theLord, you have. I s'pose you're tearin' hungry, bein' past 'leven. Ifyou think you can eat quiet as cats, I'll feed you up, but if you'regoin' to make as much rumpus as you did comin' round the corner o' thewood-shed I'll have to pack you straight off to bed up the backstairs. " They pleaded for mercy and hot food. They got it--everything thatcould be had that would diffuse no odour of cookery through thehouse. Smoking clam-broth, a great pot of baked beans, cold meats, andjellies--they had no reason to complain of their reception. They atehungrily with the appetites of winter travel. "Say, but this is great, " exulted Ralph, the stalwart, consuming ahuge wedge of mince pie with a fine disregard for any consequencesthat might overtake him. "This alone is worth it. I haven't eaten suchpie in a century. What a jolly place this old kitchen is! Let's have acandy-pull to-morrow. I haven't been home Christmas in--let me see--byJove, I believe it's six--seven--yes, seven years. Look here: there'sbeen some excuse for me, but what about you people that live near?" He looked accusingly about. Carolyn got up and came around to him. "Don't talk about it to-night, " she whispered. "We haven't any of usrealised how long it's been. " "We'll get off to bed now, " Guy declared, rising. "I can't get overthe feeling that they may catch us down here. If either of them shouldwant some hot water or anything--" "The dining-room door's bolted, " Marietta assured him, "but it mightneed explainin' if I had to bring 'em hot water by way of the parlour. Now, go awful careful up them stairs. They're pretty near over yourma's head, but I don't dare have you tramp through the settin'-room tothe front ones. Now, remember that seventh stair creaks likeNed--you've got to step right on the outside edge of it to keep itquiet. I don't know but what you boys better step right up over thatseventh stair without touchin' foot to it. " "All right--we'll step!" "Who's going to fix the bundles?" Carolyn paused to ask as she startedup the stairs. "Marietta, " Guy answered. "I've labeled every one, so it'll be easy. If they hear paper rattle, they'll think it's the usual presents we'vesent on, and if they come out they'll see Marietta, so it's all right. Quiet, now. Remember the seventh stair!" They crept up, one by one, each to his or her old room. There neededto be no "doubling up, " for the house was large, and each room hadbeen left precisely as its owner had left it. It was rather ghostly, this stealing silently about with candles, and in the necessity forthe suppression of speech the animation of the party rather sufferedeclipse. It was late, and they were beginning to be sleepy, so theywere soon in bed. But, somehow, once composed for slumber, more thanone grew wakeful again. Guy, lying staring at a patch of wintry moonlight on the odd stripedpaper of his wall--it had stopped snowing since they had come into thehouse, and the clouds had broken away, leaving a brilliantsky--discovered his door to be softly opening. The glimmer of a candlefiltered through the crack, a voice whispered his name. "Who is it?" he answered under his breath. "It's Nan. May I come in?" "Of course. What's up?" "Nothing. I wanted to talk a minute. " She came noiselessly in, wrappedin a woolly scarlet kimono, scarlet slippers on her feet, her brownbraids hanging down her back. The frost-bloom lately on her cheeks hadmelted into a ruddy glow, her eyes were stars. She set her candle onthe little stand, and sat down on the edge of Guy's bed. He raisedhimself on his elbow and lay looking appreciatively at her. "This is like old times, " he said. "But won't you be cold?" "Not a bit. I'm only going to stay a minute. Anyhow, this thing iswarm as toast. .. . Yes, isn't it like old times?" "Got your lessons for to-morrow?" She laughed. "All but my Cæsar. You'll help me with that, in themorning, won't you?" "Sure--if you'll make some cushions for my bobs. " "I will. Guy--how's Lucy Harper?" "She's all right. How's Bob Fields?" "Oh, I don't care for him, now!" She tossed her head. He kept up the play. "Like Dave Strong better, huh? He's a softy. " "He isn't. Oh, Guy--I heard you had a new girl. " "New girl nothing. Don't care for girls. " "Yes, you do. At least I think you do. Her name's--Margaret. " The play ceased abruptly. Guy's face changed. "Perhaps I do, " hemurmured, while his sister watched him in the candle-light. "She won't answer yet?" she asked very gently. "Not a word. " "You've cared a good while, haven't you, dear?" "Seems like ages. Suppose it isn't. " "No--only two years, really caring hard. Plenty of time left. " He moved his head impatiently. "Yes, if I didn't mind seeing her smileon Tommy Gower--de'il take him--just as sweetly as she smiles on me. If she ever held out the tip of her finger to me, I'd seize it andhold on to it for fair. But she doesn't. She won't. And she's goingSouth next week for the rest of the winter, and there's a fellow downthere in South Carolina where she goes--oh, he--he's red-headed afterher, like the rest of us. And, well--I'm up against it good and hard, Nan, and that's the truth. " "Poor boy. And you gave up going to see her on Christmas Day, and camedown here into the country just to--" "Just to get even with myself for the way I've neglected 'em these twoyears while my head's been so full of--her. It isn't fair. After lastyear I'd have come home to-day if it had meant I had tolose--well--Margaret knows I'm here. I don't know what she thinks. " "I don't believe, Guy, boy, she thinks the less of you. Yes--I mustgo. It will all come right in the end, dear--I'm sure of it. No, Idon't know how Margaret feels--Good night--good night!" * * * * * Christmas morning, breaking upon a wintry world--the Star in the Eastlong set. Outside the house a great silence of drift-wrapped hill andplain;--inside, a crackling fire upon a wide hearth, and a pair ofelderly people waking to a lonely holiday. [Illustration: "'THE CHILDREN!' SHE WAS SAYING. 'THEY--THEY--JOHN--THEY MUST BE HERE!'"] Mrs. Fernald crept to the door of her room--the injured knee alwaysmade walking difficult after a night's quiet. She meant to sit down bythe fire which she had lately heard Marietta stirring and feeding intoactivity, and warm herself at its flame. She remembered with a sadlittle smile that she and John had hung their stockings there, andlooked to see what miracle had been wrought in the night. "_Father_!"--Her voice caught in her throat. .. . What was all this?. .. By some mysterious influence her husband learned that she was callinghim, though he had not really heard. He came to the door and looked ather, then at the chimneypiece where the stockings hung--a long row ofthem, as they had not hung since the children grew up--stockings ofquality: one of brown silk, Nan's; a fine gray sock with scarletclocks, Ralph's, --all stuffed to the top, with bundles overflowingupon the chimneypiece and even to the floor below. "What's this--what's this?" John Fernald's voice was puzzled. "Whoseare these?" He limped closer. He put on his spectacles and stared hardat a parcel protruding from the sock with the scarlet clocks. "'_Merry Christmas to Ralph from Nan_, '" he read. "'To Ralph fromNan, '" he repeated vaguely. His gaze turned to his wife. His eyes werewide like a child's. But she was getting to her feet, from the chairinto which she had dropped. "The children!" she was saying. "They--they--John--they must be_here_!" He followed her through the chilly hall to the front staircase, seldomused now, and up--as rapidly as those slow, stiff joints would allow. Trembling, Mrs. Fernald pushed open the first door at the top. A rumpled brown head raised itself from among the pillows, a pair ofsleepy but affectionate brown eyes smiled back at the two facespeering in, and a voice brimful of mirth cried softly: "MerryChristmas, mammy and daddy!" They stared at her, their eyes growingmisty. _It was their little daughter Nan, not yet grown up!_ They could not believe it. Even when they had been to every room;--hadseen their big son Ralph, still sleeping, his yet youthful face, fullof healthy colour, pillowed on his brawny arm, and his mother hadgently kissed him awake to be half-strangled in his hug;--when theyhad met Edson's hearty laugh as he fired a pillow at them--carefully, so that his father could catch it;--when they had seen plump prettyCarol pulling on her stockings as she sat on the floor smiling up atthem;--Oliver, advancing to meet them in his bath-robe andslippers;--Guy, holding out both arms from above his blankets, andshouting "Merry Christmas!--and how do you like your children?"--eventhen it was difficult to realise that not one was missing--and that noone else was there. Unconsciously Mrs. Fernald found herself lookingabout for the sons' wives and daughters' husbands and children. Sheloved them all;--yet--to have her own, and no others, just for thisone day--it was happiness indeed. When they were all downstairs, about the fire, there was greatrejoicing. They had Marietta in; indeed, she had been hoveringcontinuously in the background, to the apparently frightful jeopardyof the breakfast in preparation, upon which, nevertheless, she hadmanaged to keep a practised eye. "And you were in it, Marietta?" Mr. Fernald said to her inastonishment, when he first saw her. "How in the world did you get allthese people into the house and to bed without waking us?" "It was pretty consid'able of a resk, " Marietta replied, with modestpride, "'seein' as how they was inclined to be middlin' lively. But Ikep' a-hushin' 'em up, and I filled 'em up so full of victuals theycouldn't talk. I didn't know's there'd be any eatables left forto-day, " she added--which last remark, since she had been slyly bakingfor a week, Guy thought might be considered pure bluff. At the breakfast table, while the eight heads were bent, thisthanksgiving arose, as the master of the house, in a voice not quitesteady, offered it to One Unseen: _Thou who camest to us on that first Christmas Day, we bless Thee forthis good and perfect gift Thou sendest us to-day, that Thouforgettest us not in these later years, but givest us the greatest joyof our lives in these our loyal children. _ Nan's hand clutched Guy's under the table. "Doesn't that make it worthit?" his grasp said to her, and hers replied with a frantic pressure, "Indeed it does, but we don't deserve it. " . .. It was late in the afternoon, a tremendous Christmas dinner wellover, and the group scattered, when Guy and his mother sat alone bythe fire. The "boys" had gone out to the great stock barn with theirfather to talk over with him every detail of the prosperous businesshe, with the help of an invaluable assistant, was yet able to manage. Carolyn and Nan had ostensibly gone with them, but in reality theformer was calling upon an old friend of her childhood, and the latterhad begged a horse and sleigh and driven merrily away alone upon anerrand she would tell no one but her mother. [Illustration: "'MERRY CHRISTMAS, MAMMY AND DADDY!'"] Mrs. Fernald sat in her low chair at the side of the hearth, her sonupon a cushion at her feet, his head resting against her knee. Herslender fingers were gently threading the thick locks of his hair, asshe listened while he talked to her of everything in his life, and, atlast, of the one thing he cared most about. "Sometimes I get desperate and think I may as well give her up forgood and all, " he was saying. "She's so--so--_elusive_--I don't knowany other word for it. I never can tell how I stand with her. She'sgoing South next week. I've asked her to answer me before she goes. Somehow I've clung to the hope that I'd get my answer to-day. You'lllaugh, but I left word with my office-boy to wire me if a note oranything from her came. It's four o'clock, and I haven't heard. She--you see, I can't help thinking it's because she's going to--turnme down--and--hates to do it--Christmas Day!" He turned suddenly and buried his face in his mother's lap; hisshoulders heaved a little in spite of himself. His mother's handcaressed his head more tenderly than ever, but, if he could have seen, her eyes were very bright. They were silent for a long time. Then suddenly a jingle of sleighbells approached through the falling winter twilight, drew near, andstopped at the door. Guy's mother laid her hands upon his shoulders. "Son, " she said, "there's some one stopping now. Perhaps it's the boywith a message from the station. " He was on his feet in an instant. Her eyes followed him as he rushedaway through the hall. Then she rose and quietly closed thesitting-room door behind him. As Guy flung open the front door, a tall and slender figure in grayfurs and a wide gray hat was coming up the walk. Eyes whose glance hadlong been his dearest torture met Guy Fernald's and fell. Lips likewhich there were no others in the world smiled tremulously in responseto his eager exclamation. And over the piquant young face rose anexquisite colour which was not altogether born of the wintry air. Thegirl who for two years had been only "elusive" had taken thesignificant step of coming to North Estabrook in response to aneloquent telephone message sent that morning by Nan. Holding both her hands fast, Guy led her up into the house--and foundhimself alone with her in the shadowy hall. With one gay shout Nan haddriven away toward the barn. The inner doors were all closed. Blessingthe wondrous sagacity of his womankind, Guy took advantage of hismoment. "Nan brought you--I see that. I know you're very fond of her, but--youdidn't come wholly to please her, did you--Margaret?" "Not wholly. " "I've been looking all day for my answer. I--oh--I wonder if--" he wasgathering courage from her aspect, which for the first time in hisexperience failed to keep him at a distance--"_dare_ I thinkyou--_bring it_?" She slowly lifted her face. "I thought it was so--so dear of you, " shemurmured, "to come home to your people instead of--staying with me. Ithought you deserved--what you say--you want--" "_Margaret_--you--" "I haven't given you any Christmas present. Will--I--do?" "Will _you_ do!. .. _Oh_!"--It was a great explosive sigh of reliefand joy, and as he gave vent to it he caught her close. "Will--_you_--do!. .. Good Lord!. .. I rather _think you will_!" * * * * * _"Emeline--"_ _"Yes, John dear?"_ _"You're not--crying?"_ _"Oh, no--no, no, John!" What a blessing deafness is sometimes! Theear cannot detect the delicate tremolo which might tell the story tooplainly. And in the darkness of night, the eye cannot see. _ _"It's been a pretty nice day, hasn't it?"_ _"A beautiful day!"_ _"I guess there's no doubt but the children care a good deal for theold folks yet. "_ _"No doubt at all, dear. "_ _"It's good to think they're all asleep under the roof once more, isn't it?--And one extra one. We like her, don't we?"_ _"Oh, very, very much!"_ _"Yes, Guy's done well. I always thought he'd get her, if he hung on. The Fernalds always hang on, but Guy's got a mite of a temper--Ididn't know but he might let go a little too soon. Well--it's great tothink they all plan to spend every Christmas Day with us, isn't it, Emeline?"_ _"Yes, dear--it's--great. "_ _"Well--I must let you go to sleep. It's been a big day, and I guessyou're tired. Emeline, we've not only got each other--we've got thechildren too. That's a pretty happy thing at our age, isn't it, now?"_ _"Yes--yes. "_ _"Good night--Christmas Night, Emeline. "_ _"Good night, dear. "_ * * * * * By the Same Author The Second ViolinThe Indifference of JulietWith Juliet in EnglandRound the Corner in Gay Street Also many short stories for children * * * * *