The very audacity of the effort seemed inspiration to more ambitious
work; and during the long summer, while in her busy hands the
fluting-machine went round and round, Evelyn's mind was full of plans
for the future.

Finally, December, with its promise of the momentous decision, was come,
and Evelyn found herself full of anxious misgivings.

What merit entitling it to special consideration had the little story?
Did it bear the impress of self-forgetful, conscientious purpose, or was
this a thing only feebly struggling into life within herself--not yet
the compelling force that indelibly stamps itself upon the earnest labor
of consecrated hands? How often in the silent hours of night did she ask
herself questions like these!

At last it was Christmas Eve again, and Saturday night. When the days
are dark, what is so depressing as an anniversary--an anniversary joyous
in its very essence? How one Christmas brings in its train
memory-pictures of those gone before!

This had been a hard day for Evelyn. Her heart felt weak within her,
and yet, realizing that she alone represented youth and hope in the
little household, and feeling need that her own courage should be
sustained, she had been more than usually merry all day. She had
clandestinely prepared little surprises for her father and mammy, and
was both amused and touched to discover the old woman secreting
mysterious little parcels which she knew were to come to her in the
morning.

"Wouldn't it be funny if, after all, I should turn out to be only a good
washerwoman, mammy?" she said, laughing, as she assisted the old woman
in pinning up a basket of laundered clothing.

"Hit'd be funnier yit ef _I'd_ turn out inter one o' deze heah
book-writers, wouldn't it?" And mammy laughed heartily at her own joke.
"Look like I better study my a-b abs fus', let 'lone puttin' 'em back on
paper wid a pen. I tell you educatiom's a-spreadin' in dis fam'ly, sho.
Time Blink run over de sheet out a-bleachin' 'is_tid_dy, he written a
Chinese letter all over it. Didn't you, Blink? What de matter wid Blink
anyhow, to-day?" she added, taking the last pin from her head-kerchief.
"Blink look like he nervous some way dis evenin'. He keep a-walkin'
roun', an' winkin' so slow, an' retchin' his neck out de back-do' so
cuyus. Stop a-battin' yo' eyes at me, Blink! Ef yo' got some'h'n' ter
say, _say it_!"

* * * * *

A sudden noisy rattle of the iron door-knoc