of a
heart, and a key in the form of a hand.

"My heart and my hand are all I have to give," she whispered, kissing
his forehead, while a tear glistened in her eye. "The chain was made
from the hair you cut from my head when I was so very sick."

He raised the precious token to his lips, exclaiming with great
tenderness, "I shall wear it as long as I live. What would the world
be to me, Cecilia, without your heart and hand?"

There was a service in the church at ten, and at noon all the really
aged people in the parish had been invited to a dinner at Woodlawn.

"I want to have a regular house-warming," Mr. Curtis had said to his
wife. "I want to warm it with the good will of all our villagers." So
it was decided that the old people should come to dinner, the married
persons and children to tea, and the young people of both sexes in the
evening.

I wish I could paint a picture of the happy faces that gathered around
the festal board during that lovely Christmas Day. There was the good
pastor and his family improving this pleasant occasion to speak a word
here and there as it was needed among their flock. There were Mr. and
Mrs. Hunt, leading Susy who had just returned from the hospital. There
was Thomas Grant, his face red as a beet, gallanting a very sensible
looking girl who was soon to become his wife. There were swarms of
laddies and lasses, kept in constant good humor by Albert Dodge, who
had returned to Oxford for the occasion. There were groups of
children headed by Bertie, playing all sorts of games, or gathering in
a circle around the Squire, who told them funny stories.

"You have learned the secret of living," remarked the Pastor, when he
came to take leave. "In promoting the happiness and welfare of those
about us we ensure our own."

"That is the rule by which my wife is training our boy," answered the
gentleman. "No other house-warming could have pleased us so well as
this."

CHAPTER XII.

VIOLETS AND VIOLETTA.

When spring came, Bertie went one morning into his mamma's chamber
with a bunch of the earliest violets.

The curtains were dropped before the large bay window, and though it
was not cold a pleasant fire crackled in the open grate.

"Why, mamma, are you sick?" Bertie asked, running quickly to the side
of the bed.

"Have you seen papa?" said mamma, smiling. "He went out to tell you I
have a present for you."

"No, mamma, I didn't see him."

She turned down the sheet and s