ent the sitting-room was
empty, and Faith passed on to her work-basket, to put the hood in safe
keeping. She found a pre-occupied basket. At some unknown hour of the
night, Santa Claus had come and left upon it his mark in the shape of a
package: a rather large and rather thin package, but done up with that
infallible brown paper and small cord which everybody knows by
instinct. Who ever looked twice at a parcel from _that_ wagon, and
doubted whence it came?

Faith's cheeks took an additional tinge, quite as brilliant as if the
crimson hood had been on. What doubtful fingers lifted the package from
the basket!

The thing--whatever it was--had been done up carefully. Beneath the
brown paper a white one revealed itself, beneath that a red leather
portfolio--made in the pretty old-fashioned style, and securing its
contents by means of its red leather tongue. But when Faith had
withdrawn this, and with the caution always exercised on such occasions
had also drawn out the contents, she found the prettiest continuation
of her Italian journey, in the shape of very fine photographs of all
sorts of Italian places and things, mingled with here and there an
excursion into the Swiss mountains.

A few almost awe-stricken glances Faith gave; then she put the
photographs in the portfolio again, scarcely seen, and looked at the
outside of the red leather; felt of its smooth surface with admiring
fingers that hardly believed what they touched, and a face glowing with
a very deep glow by this time. Faith thought herself rich, beyond the
imagination of a millionaire. But after a little mute amazed
consideration of her happiness, she rushed off to the kitchen to
signalize the Christmas breakfast--and perhaps spend a few of her too
many thoughts--by the preparation and production of one of Madame
Danforth's nice, but in Pattaquasset unheard of, delicacies; and when
all the rest of the breakfast was ready, Faith demurely went in with
her dish.

She had not a word of acknowledgment for Mr. Linden, which was
ungrateful. She gave him her hand, however, with a manner and look
which were graceful enough; being at once open and shy, very bright,
and yet veiled with a shade of reserve. She had been over the fire, so
her face was naturally a little rosy. There was no particular reserve
about him,--his "Merry Christmas" was not only wished but carried out,
so far as breakfast time extended. Faith might be as demure as she
liked, but she had to