e,
snowy landscape. Father Marshall had taken the car to the barn, and
Bonnie was hurrying the dinner on the table.

Courtland entered the room as if it had been a sacred place, and looked
around on the plain comfort: the home-made rugs, the fat, worsted
pincushion, the quaint old pictures on the walls, the bookcase with its
rows of books; the big white bed with its quilted counterpane of
delicate needlework, the neat marble-topped washstand with its speckless
appointments and its wealth of large old-fashioned towels.

"It isn't very fancy," said Mother Marshall, deprecatingly. "We fixed up
Bonnie's room as modern as we could when we knew she was coming"--she
waved an indicating hand toward the open door across the hall, where the
rosy glow of pink curtains and cherry-blossomed wall gave forth a
pleasant sense of light and joy--"and we had meant to fix this all over
for Steve the first Christmas when he came home, as a surprise; but now
that he has gone we sort of wanted to keep it just as he left it."

"It is great!" said Courtland, simply. "I like it just like this. Don't
you? It is fine of you to put me in it. I feel as if it was almost a
desecration, because, you see, I didn't know him very well; I wasn't the
friend to him I might have been. I thought I ought to tell you that
right at the start. Perhaps you wouldn't want me if you knew all about
it."

"You would have been his friend if you had had a chance to know him,"
beamed the brave little mother. "He was a real brave boy always!"

"He sure was!" said Courtland, deeply stirred. "But I did get to know
what a man he was. I saw him die, you know! But it was too late then!"

"It is never too late!" said Mother Marshall, brushing away a bright
tear. "There is heaven, you know!"

"Why, surely there is heaven! I hadn't thought of that! Won't that be
great?" Courtland spoke the words reverently. It came to him gladly
that he might make up in heaven for many things lost down here. He had
never thought of that before.

"I wonder if you would mind," said Mother Marshall, wistfully, "if I was
to kiss you, the way I used to do Steve when he'd been away?"

"I would mind very much," said Courtland, setting his suit-case down
suddenly and taking the plump little mother reverently into his big
arms. "It would be _great_, Mother Marshall," and he kissed her twice.

Mother Marshall reached her short little arms up around his neck and
laid her gray head for just a minute