hinking. Things often let loose
ideas, you know. This being Christmas--and the stable and the manger
and--and--the baby. It all fits in."

Tate looked at his wife in an almost frightened way.

"You mean"--he tried awkwardly to follow her confused words; "you
mean--a baby has been borned in--our manger?"

"Lord! Tate what are you thinking of? St. Ange may be wilder than
Bethlehem in some ways, but there ain't never been no baby borned in
_my_ manger."

"Then what in thunder do you mean?"

"Nothing, Tate"; and now the tears were actually falling from Isa's
eyes.

"I guess"--she strangled over her emotions--"I guess--it's more like--a
flight inter Egypt--than--than--a birthday party."

"Get up, Bet!" Tate was routed by the event. Finally he said slowly,
"See here, old woman, I'm going to look inter that--baby boot, and don't
you forget it. This ain't no time and place maybe, but Tate's going to
have his senses onter any job that takes his possessions for granted.
Give me--that flannel boot."

"Tate--I can't."

"Can't, hey?"

"Well then"--and the declaration of independence rang out--"I won't!"

"What!" Brown Betty leaped under the lash.

"It don't belong to me."

"Do you know who owns it?"

"I can--guess."

"Guess then, by thunder!"

"It--belonged--to--Joyce's poor little dead young-un."

"How in"--then Tate blanched, for superstition held his dull wits. "How
you 'spose it got there?"

"How can I tell, Tate? But I'll ask Joyce, to-morrer."

With that Leon had to be content.

The feast began at five. Long, long did the youth of St. Ange recall it
with fulness of heart and stomach. Yearningly did St. Ange womankind
hark back to it. It was the first time in their lives that they had not
prepared, and were not expected themselves to serve, a meal. They
forgot, in the rapture of repose, their new and splendid gowns--the
comfort wrapped their every sense.

"I was borned," poor Peggy confided to her neighbour, "to be a
constitootional setter, I think; but circumstances prevented. It's
curious enough how naterally I take the chance to set and set and enjoy
setting."

Mrs. Murphy smoothed her dark-green cashmere with reverent and caressing
hand.

"There's more than you, Mis' Falster," she said, "as is borned to what
they don't get, sure! Now me, fur instant, I find it easier nor what you
might think, to chew without my front teeth."

This made Billy Falstar laugh. It was the first genuine laugh the