all to onct. Most
everybody has a Christmas of some sort. How would Friday do."

"Very nicely. That will be two days after Christmas. Little folks will
have recovered from the effects of their feasting by that time."

"Well, Dan'el 'll get a tree and fix up the Hall; and tell, then, who
you'll want to invite."

"All the children on the Mill Road may come. We will have something for
each of them."

"I'm very glad; for there's a few children around here that hardly knows
what it is to have anything good to eat; and it'll be something for 'em
to think and talk about. They'll not forget it, or you, for a good many
years, I can tell you. If rich folks only knew how much good they might
do, I think they'd not be so neglectful."

I soon left Mrs. Blake to continue her Christmas preparations alone,
feeling much relieved that Daniel was going to assume the responsibility
of securing the Hall, providing the tree, and notifying my guests. I got
my presents for Thomas and Samuel, and then set about the purchase of
gifts for the Christmas tree. Picture-books, jack-knives, dolls, and
other toys comprised my selection. These, I concluded, would give the
children more pleasure than the more necessary articles which an older
and wiser person would naturally have selected. I had got so absorbed in
my work that I quite forgot our expected guest until I went into the
dining-room, unfortunately a little late, and found them already engaged
at dinner, and Mr. Bovyer with them. Mr. Winthrop explained my tardiness
in such a way that I was left a little cross and uncomfortable, and took
my dinner something after the fashion of a naughty child suffering from
reproof. Before the evening was over, however, I had forgotten my passing
dissatisfaction; for Mr. Bovyer was in one of his inspired moods when he
sat at the piano.

I noticed afterward that Mrs. Flaxman's eyes were very red; but while he
was playing my attention was taken up in part with the music, and partly
in furtively watching Mr. Winthrop. He seemed ill at ease, and restless;
while Mr. Bovyer's utmost efforts were powerless to move him to tears.
When we had all drawn cosily around the fire, after the music was ended,
I remarked with some regret, "I do not think Mr. Winthrop has any tears
to shed. His eyes were as dry as a bone."

"The night is too fine for such an effect. Wait until we have a storm,"
he said, with a smile.

"Your nerves are too strong for a storm to affect th