Jocelyn, Cynthia's son and his man Timothy.

Idly Cynthia's son watched the rest of the party coming through the
little path that led to Grandma's door. He saw them all plainly
through the curtains and plants that screened him. Jocelyn and David
came last. David made a great to-do about stamping the snow off his
feet, taking pains to stand between Jocelyn and the door. Then, just
as Jocelyn was about to slip past him, the minister saw David reach out
and sweep the girl into his arms. And Cynthia's son could not help but
see the glory in the boy's eyes as the girl's wild-rose face turned up
to meet her lover's kiss.

For blind seconds John Roger Churchill Knight crashed through space.
And then the next minute he was living in a shining world that was all
roses and skylarks and dew. He laughed, for all at once he knew what
ailed him; he knew that the wonderful, tantalizing something that had
so steadily eluded him, tormented him was--just Nan, the girl of the
gray day, the log fire and the storm.

He was the maddest, gladdest man in all Green Valley that day until he
remembered that he had sent Nan no gift, not even a greeting or a word
of thanks for the beautiful collie dog she had sent him. He stood in
horrified amazement at his stupidity. Jocelyn had been showing them
her new ring. And Nan, his sweetheart, had not even a Christmas card.

Cynthia's son went to the telephone but even as he raised the receiver
he somehow guessed what the answer would be.

Nan's father answered.

"Why, John, she left on that 1:10 for Scranton, Pennsylvania. It's the
first fool thing I have ever known her to do. Stayed right here till
she'd given us our Christmas gifts and dinner and then off she went to
see this old aunt in Scranton. Why, yes--you can send a telegram.
She'll get it when she arrives."

So it happened that when a tired, homesick, wretched girl reached her
aunt's house in Scranton, Pennsylvania, she found the one gift for
which her heart had cried all that long, long Christmas day. It was
just a bit of yellow paper that said:

"oh gray day girl don't stay too long the
fire is singing your chair is waiting and I have
so much to tell you come home and forgive."

CHAPTER XXI

FANNY'S HOUR

Nobody had asked Fanny to be a member of the Civic League but she was
its most energetic promoter, its most zealous advocate. Never had she
had such a cold weather opportunity.

Fanny hated cold weathe