made to
hang on the tree. Corn was popped and strung into long white chains. But
what was to be done for candles? Could Dorian make candles? He could do
most everything, couldn't he? He would try. Had they some parafine, used
to seal preserve jars. Oh, yes, large pieces were found. And this with
some string was soon made into some very possible candles. The children
were intensely interested, and even the mail-driver wondered at the
young man's cleverness. They had never seen anything like this before.
The tree and its trimmings had always been bought ready for their use.
Now they learned, which their parents should have known long ago, that
there is greater joy in the making of a plaything than in the possession
of it.

The question of candy seemed to bother them all. Their last hopes went
when there was not a box of candy in the postman's bag. What should they
do for candy and nuts and oranges and--

"Can you make candy?" asked the girl of Dorian as if she was aware she
was asking the miraculous.

"Now children," warned the happy mother. "You have your hands full" she
said to Dorian. "There's no limit to their demands."

Dorian assured her that the greater pleasure was his.

"Tomorrow," he told the clammering children, "we'll see what we can do
about the candy."

"Chocolates?" asked one.

"Caramels," chose another.

"Fudge," suggested the third.

"All these?" laughed Dorian. "Well, we'll see-tomorrow," and with that
the children went to bed tremulously happy.

The next morning the sun arose on a most beautiful scene. The snow lay
deep on mountain and in valley. It ridged the fences and trees. Paths
and roads were obliterated.

The children were awake early. As Dorian dressed, he heard them
scampering down the stairs. Evidently, they were ready for him. He
looked out of the window. He would have to make good about that tree.

As yet, Dorian had found no traces of the object of his search. He had
not asked direct questions about her, but he would have to before he
left. There seemed some mystery always just before him. The mail-driver
would not be ready to go before noon, so Dorian would have time to get
the tree and help the children decorate it. Then he would have to find
out all there was to know about Carlia. Surely, she was somewhere in the
locality.

After breakfast, Dorian found the axe in the wood-shed, and began to
make his way through the deep snow up the hill toward a small grove of
pine. Be