the barette."

"Oh," says I, "that is what they call it! Well, then, the four-cornered
cocked barette--what does the minister wear that for? It isn't generally
considered good manners for men to wear hats in meeting."

"Oh, there is a clerical reason I can't quite explain, but it is a part
of the ceremony."

"Just so," says I--"and the night-gown."

"Surplice, you mean," says E. E.; "oh, that is worn everywhere, in High
and Low Church alike."

"Well," says I, "there may be a reason for such things, but a
respectable black coat is what I've been used to."

"Yes, I know," says she; "but some people prefer the surplice and cope."

"Now tell me," says I, "what on earth has a minister to do with a
woman's satin _cape_, all crimlicued off with gold and silk work?" I put
an emphasis on the word cape, to rebuke her finefied way of pronouncing
it.

"It is a part of the clerical paraphernalia, and gives richness to the
vestments," says she. "But the altar--I felt sure that you would be
pleased with that."

"Yes," says I; "the white flowers, the candles, and the evergreens were
beautiful. But the red and white boy was too much for me; then his
name--Acolyte--I never heard anything like it."

Just then we reached home, and shivered into the house to warm
ourselves. Cousin Dempster was not up yet, and that child was sound
asleep. It seemed to me as if we had been downstairs a week; but there
was the Christmas tree, just loaded with presents; and there was the
marble man and woman, looking cold as we were. And there we stood,
hungry and shivering, for the help had all gone out to "early service,"
and forgot to heap coal on the furnace; and the end was, we just got
into our cold beds again, and shivered ourselves to sleep. I dreamed
that a man, all in black and white, with a four-cornered hat on--one
tassel hanging over his eyes, and another down his back--with something
like a flash of fire about his neck, was burying me ten thousand feet
deep in a snow-drift, and pounding me down with a candle as big round as
my waist. Then it seemed to me that I got out, somehow, and was trying
to warm my hands by the red frock of that boy, Acolyte, who faded into
nothing before my eyes, and left me sound asleep as if I had never been
to early service in my life.

XIX.

CHRISTMAS MORNING.

We had a good long sleep after early service, and were all up bright as
larks the next morning, wishing each other a merry Christmas, a