e-shadows.

"Rise--" said Roger radiantly, tapping him with a cedar wand, "I--I dub
thee first of all my knights--the good, kind Christmas Knight!"

"And here," said Ralph, smiling, "here's Sister Madge. What grand title
now shall we give to her?" But as Sister Madge knelt before him with
firelit shadows dancing in her sweet, dark eyes, Roger dropped the wand
and buried his face on her shoulder with a little sob.

"Nothing good enough for Sister Madge, eh?" broke in the old Doctor,
looking up. "Well, sir, I think you're right."

Now in the silence Aunt Ellen spoke and her words were like a gentle
Christmas benediction.

"'Unto us,'" said Aunt Ellen Leslie as she turned the Christmas log,
"'this night a son is given!'"

But Ralph, by the window, had not heard. For wakening again in his heart
as he stared at the peaceful, moonlit, "God-made" hills--was the old
forgotten boyish love for this rugged, simple life of his father's
dwarfing the lure of the city and the mockery of his fashionable
friends. And down the lane of years ahead, bright with homely happiness
and service to the needs of others--was the dark and winsome face of
Sister Madge, stirring him to ardent resolution.

Part Two

In Which We Light the New Log with the Embers of the Old

I

The Fire Again

"Doctor!" said little Roger slyly, "you got your chin stuck out!"

The Doctor stroked his grizzled beard in hasty apology.

"God bless my soul," he admitted guiltily. "I do believe I have. You've
been so quiet," he added accusingly, "curled up there by the fire that I
must certainly have gotten lonesome. And I most always stick out my chin
that way when I'm lonesome."

Roger, by way of reparation, betook himself to the arm of the Doctor's
chair.

The Doctor's arm closed tight around him. A year ago this little adopted
son of his had been very lame. It was the first Christmas in his life,
indeed, that he had walked.

"Out there," said the Doctor, "the winter twilight's been fighting the
alder berries with purple spears. It's conquered everything in the
garden and covered it up with misty velvet save the snow and the
berries. But the twilight's using heavier spears now and likely it'll
win. _I_ want the alder berries to win out, drat it! Their blaze is so
bright and cheerful."

Roger accepted the challenge to argument with enthusiasm.

"_I_ want the twilight to win," he said.

The Doctor looked slightly scandalized.

"Oh, my,