. "Think what
it will mean to get it all in order."

"I do think what it will mean. Don't I, though! It will mean--shopping
with my love, choosing rugs and furniture--and plates and cups,
Robin--plates and cups to eat and drink from. The fun of that! Will you
help us, Rufus?" He turned, laughing, to the young girl beside him.
"Will you come and eat and drink from our plates and cups? Ah, but this
is a great old world--yes? you three dear people! And I'm the happiest
fellow in it!"

There seemed small doubt that there could be few happier, just then, as
standing at the top of his own staircase and gazing down into the wide
and empty hall toward the open door which led out upon the
white-pillared portico of his home-that-was-to-be, Richard Kendrick
flung up one arm, lifting an imaginary cup high in the air, and calling
joyously:

_"Here's hoping!"_

CHAPTER XXV

A STOUT LITTLE CABIN

Christmas morning! and the bells in St. Luke's pealing the great old
hymn, dear for scores of years to those who had heard it chiming from
the ivy-grown towers--"_Adeste, Fideles_."

_"Oh, come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!"_

Joyful and triumphant, indeed, though yet subdued and humble, since this
paradox may be at times in human hearts, was Richard Kendrick, as he
stood waiting in the vestibule of St. Luke's, on Christmas morning, for
a tryst he had made. Not with Roberta, for it was not possible for her
to be present to-day, but with Ruth Gray, that young sister who had
become so like a sister by blood to Richard that, at her suggestion, it
had seemed to him the happiest thing in the world to go to church with
her on Christmas morning--the morning of the day which was to see his
marriage.

The Gray homestead was full of wedding guests, the usual family guests
of the Christmas house-party. On the evening before had occurred the
Christmas dance, and Richard had led the festivities, with his
bride-elect at his side. It had been a glorious merry-making and his
pulses had thrilled wildly to the rapture of it. But to-day--to-day was
another story.

A slender young figure, in brown velvet with a tiny twig of holly
perched among furry trimmings, hurried up the steps and into the
vestibule. Richard met Ruth halfway, his face alight, his hand clasping
hers eagerly.

"I'm so sorry I am late," she whispered. "Oh, it's so fine of you to
come. Isn't it a lovely, lovely way to begin this Day--your and Rob's
day, too?"