ow took his hands, lowered her bright eyes and blushed. Then she
suddenly withdrew herself and stood up.

"Now," she said, with a pretty smile, "let me do the talking. Don't
look so downcast. When I tell you that you have made me very, very
happy, you should look happy too. When you came to me yesterday, and
said what you said, I thought you were in too much of a hurry; but now
I think that perhaps you were right, and that when people of our age
have anything important to do it is well to do it at once; for in this
world there are all sorts of things continually springing up to prevent
people from being happy."

The whole body of the baker was filled with a great groan, but he
denied it utterance. He must hear what she would say.

"And so I was going to suggest," she continued, "that instead of
skipping Christmas together, we keep it together. That is all the
change I propose to your plan."

Up sprang the baker, so suddenly, that he overset his chair. Now he
must speak. The widow stepped quickly toward the door, and, turning
with a smile, held up her hand.

"Now, good friend," said she, "stop there! At any moment some one might
come in. Hasten back to your shop. At three o'clock I will meet you at
the parson's. That will surely be soon enough, even for such a hasty
man as you."

The baker came forward, and gasped, "Your husband!"

"Not yet," said the widow, with a laugh, and, kissing the tips of her
fingers to him, she closed the door behind her.

Out into the cold went the baker. His head was dazed, but he walked
steadfastly to his shop. There was no need for him to go anywhere; to
tell anybody anything. The man with the earrings would settle matters
for himself soon enough.

The baker put up his shutters and locked his shop door. He would do
nothing more for the good of trade; nothing more for the good of
anything. Skip Christmas! Indeed would he! And, moreover, every holiday
and every happy day would now be skipped straight on for the rest of
his life. He put his house in order; he arranged his affairs; he
attired himself in his best apparel; locked his door behind him; and
went out into the cold world.

He longed now to get far away from the village. Before the sun set
there would not be one soul there who would care for him.

As he hurried on, he saw before him the parson's house.

"I will take but one thing away with me," he said; "I will ask the good
old man to give me his blessing. That will I