ontrary desire to turn and rush upstairs. She
felt dimly that to kiss Marjorie was to declare peace against her will.
But her better nature whispered to her not to ruin the peace of
Yuletide. She would respect the flag of truce for one day. Then she
could give Marjorie the ring she had bought for her before coming to
Sanford and laid away for Christmas. Afterward she would show her that
she had softened merely for the time being. She returned Marjorie's
affectionate kiss rather coolly. Nevertheless, the ice was broken.

Five minutes later she found herself running upstairs for her presents
for the Deans in an almost happy mood, and she joined in the present
giving with a heartiness that was far from forced. Once she had ceased
to resist Marjorie's winning advances she was completely drawn into the
divine spirit of the occasion, and she allowed herself to drift once
more into the dear channel of bygone friendship.

Marjorie fairly bubbled over with exuberant happiness. The unbelievable
had come to pass. She and Mary were once more chums. She longed to tell
Mary all that was in her heart, but refrained. For to-day it was better
to live on the surface of things. Later there would be plenty of time
for confidences. After breakfast she mentioned rather timidly that she
expected a call from Constance and little Charlie.

Mary received the statement with an apparent docility that brought
welcome relief to Marjorie. She was not sure of her chum on this one
point. When Constance and Charlie arrived at a little after ten o'clock,
burdened with gaily decked bundles, Marjorie's fears were set at rest.
To be sure, Mary showed no enthusiasm over Constance, but Charlie was a
different matter. She had conceived a strange, deep love for the quaint
little boy and spared no pains to entertain him. While she was putting
Marjorie's beautiful angora cat, Ruffle, through a series of cunning
little tricks, which he performed with sleepy indolence, Marjorie
managed to say to Constance, "I can't come to see you to-night, Connie.
I'll explain some day soon. You understand."

Constance nodded wisely. Nothing could have induced her to mar the
reconciliation which had evidently taken place. "Come when you can," she
murmured. Generously leaving herself out of the question, she purposely
shortened her stay, although Charlie pleaded to remain.

"I'll come again soon," he assured Mary, as he was being towed off by
his sister's determined hand. "I li