f
encyclopedias that he had heard Father say he wished he had; a lot of
silver forks and spoons for Mother, who had apologized for the silver
being rubbed off of some of hers. There were two sets of books in
wonderful leather bindings that he had heard Bonnie say she longed to
read, and there was the tiniest little gold watch, about which he had
been in terrible doubt ever since he had sent for it. Suppose Bonnie
should think it wrong to accept it when she had known him so short a
time! How was he going to make her see that it was all right? He
couldn't tell her she was a sort of a sister of his, for he didn't want
her for a sister. He puzzled over that question whenever he had time,
which wasn't often, because he was so busy and so happy every minute.

Then there were great five-pound boxes of chocolates, glaced nuts and
bonbons, and a crate of foreign fruits, with nuts, raisins, figs, and
dates. There was a long, deep box from the nearest city filled with the
most wonderful hothouse blossoms: roses, lilies, sweet peas, violets,
gardenias, and even orchids. Courtland had never enjoyed spending money
so much in all his life. He only wished he could get back to the city
for a couple of hours and buy a lot more things.

To paint the picture of Mother Marshall when she sat on her new
air-cushions and counted her spoons and forks--real silver forks beyond
all her dreamings!--to show Father Marshall, as he wiped his spectacles
and bent, beaming, over the encyclopedias or rested his gray head back
against the cushions! Ah! That would be the work of an artist who could
catch the glory that shines deeper than faces and reaches souls! As for
Courtland, he was too much taken up watching Bonnie's face when she
opened her books, looking deep into her eyes as she looked up from the
little velvet case where the watch ticked softly into her wondering
ears; seeing the breathlessness with which she lifted the flowers from
their bed among the ferns and placed them reverently in jars and
pitchers around the room.

It was a wonderful Christmas! The first real Christmas Courtland had
ever known. Sitting in the dim firelight between dusk and darkness,
watching Bonnie at the piano, listening to the tender Christmas music
she was playing, joining his sweet tenor in with her clear soprano now
and then, Courtland suddenly thought of Tennelly, off at Palm Beach,
doing the correct thing in wedding trips with Gila. Poor Tennelly! How
little he w