tes Tony flung the door open and strode into the room,
unashamed of the tears that shone on his rough cheeks.

"You all a go to hell-a with your a-names! Felice, she name-a our boy
and to-morrow we go Padre Jenneeng. She a name heem"--he paused with
true Latin sense of the value of suspense--"She a name heem--Reechar'
Terree--Ricorro!"

A moment of hesitation, of assimilation, and then a hubbub of
delighted acceptance and acclaim. Terry stayed but a few minutes,
realizing that much as they liked him, there would be more spontaneity
at the fiesta if there were none but their own people at the table.

He went in and thanked Felice gravely for the honor she had conferred
upon him, wished for them all a merry Christmas, and passed out amid a
medley of thanks and benedictions.

The snowfall had ceased. He crossed to the North Side and hastened up
Main Street, and though it lacked but an hour of midnight, he found
Judd's jewelry store still open. He went in and found young Judd about
to close up.

Judd, hollow eyed with the fatigue of the long day, studied his old
friend's beaming face: "Hello, Sir Galahad!" he said.

Terry eyed him scornfully: "Hello, Rut!" He drew himself up proudly.
"Behold in me a new dignity--I am now a god-father!"

Having in mind the parents' love for the elaborate, he gayly selected
an ornate silver cup for the infant.

"I'll engrave it for you after the holidays," Judd offered.

"Good old boy, Judd! The initials will be R--T--R."

He buttoned his coat and went to the door: Judd was musing over the
monogram: "Richard--Terry--what's the 'R' stand for, Dick?"

Terry grinned as he called back through the open door.

"Why,--Romance, of course!"

* * * * *

He tramped far out the north road through the new fallen snow, his
whole being glowing. The stars sparkled through the clear cold air in
myriad chorus of the message of hope that one in the East had heralded
to a sadder world on another Christmas eve. The snow-flung star beams
illuminated the peaceful countryside: there was no moon, no light
save the great glow of the heavens, no shadows under gaunt oaks or
huddled evergreens.

He was in harmony with the night. He followed the sleigh-rutted
highway for several miles, then swung back to town along a
woodcutter's trail that edged the lakeshore, winding through the new
growths of pine and balsam whose night-black branches were outlined by
the white fall.