d Jenny's. Her heart throbbed when she saw a
light there. Of late, when she had waked in the night, she had always
looked, but always until now the little house had been wrapped in the
darkness. Because of that light, she could not sleep again, and so
presently she rose, and in the sharp chill of the room, bathed and
dressed, though what had once been her savage satisfaction in braving
the cold had long since become mere undramatic ability to endure it
without thinking. With Mary, life and all its constructive rites had won
what the sacrificial has never been able to achieve--the soul of the
casual, of, so to say, second nature, which is last nature, and nature
triumphant.

While she was at breakfast Mis' Abby Winslow came in.

"Mercy," Mis' Winslow said, "is it breakfast--early? I've been up hours,
frosting the cakes."

"What cakes?" Mary asked idly.

Mis' Winslow flushed dully. "I ain't baked anything much in weeks
before," she answered ambiguously, and hurried from the subject.

"The little fellow's coming in on the Local, is he?" she said. "You
ain't heard anything different?"

"Nothing different," Mary replied. "Yes, of course he's coming. They
left there Saturday, or I'd have heard. The man he's with is going to
get home to-night for Christmas with his folks in the City."

"Going down to meet him of course, ain't you," Mis' Winslow pursued
easily.

"Why, yes," said Mary.

"Well," Mis' Winslow mounted her preparation, "I was thinking it would
be kind of dark for you to bring him in here all alone. Don't you want I
should come over and keep up the lights and be here when you get here?"

She watched Mary in open anxiety. If she were to refuse, it would go
rather awkwardly. To her delight Mary welcomed with real relief the
suggestion.

"I'd be ever so much obliged," she said; "I thought of asking somebody.
I'll have a little supper set out for him before I leave."

"Yes, of course," Mis' Winslow said, eyes down. "I'll be over about
seven," she added. "If the train's on time, you'll be back here around
half past. The children want to go down with you--they can be at Mis'
Moran's when you go by. You'll walk up from the depot, won't you? You
do," she said persuasively; "the little fellow'll be glad to stretch his
legs. And it'll give the children a chance to get acquainted."

"I might as well," Mary assented listlessly. "There's no need to hurry
home, as I know of, except keeping you waiting."

"Oh, I d