s_."

Miss Sarah's voice interrupted presently. "I don't know when I have
spent such an eventful hour. I must take my knitting cotton and go. I
know now where to come when I have the blues."

"It is worth while to give Miss Sarah a little pleasure," Alex said as
the door closed behind her. "She is the bravest, brightest person, and
her life is anything but easy." Then she returned to the consideration
of the card she had drawn. "I am dreadfully puzzled over what I ought
to do. I want to make my own living, and yet it is hard to go against
the wishes of everybody at home. Do you really think if I just go on
doing what comes to me that the way will open? It sounds lazy."

"No, it sounds serene. If I were you, I'd try it," said Norah.

CHAPTER TWENTIETH

MERRY HEARTS

Many things combined in the Terrace to proclaim the season of the
year. Great was the seeding of raisins, shelling of nuts, and slicing
of citron for fruit-cake and puddings,--matters these housekeepers
were wont to attend to themselves. Neighborly consultations were held
also, and the relative merits of last year's cakes discussed.

"I really have no business making fruit-cake this season," Miss Sarah
Leigh remarked over her grocery bill. "Everything is so expensive."

"Why, Sarah Leigh, who ever heard of Christmas without fruit-cake!"
her aunt exclaimed.

"But you don't eat it, Aunt Sally."

"I shall this year."

Wayland ate it, if his aunt did not. He would be disappointed if she
did not have one as usual; perhaps she could save in some other way,
Miss Sarah thought. "After all, my saving will be a good deal like
Mrs. Green's keeping Lent," she told Miss Virginia. "She never, under
any circumstances, went anywhere, and she didn't have dessert except
on Sunday, and then she seldom ate it on account of her rheumatism, so
there really seemed to be no way to deny herself any further."

Nevertheless, Miss Sarah ordered the raisins and other good things,
and at night she sat up making collars and belts for the shop.

At the shop James Mandeville lay on the floor, poring over a profusely
illustrated copy of "'Twas the Night before Christmas," bursting forth
tunefully, now and then, with "_Susanna_ in the highest."

There was no manner of use in correcting him, he preferred his own
versions, and stuck to them.

The window of the shop presented an ever changing variety of wares,
from posters and colored photographs to baskets, bags, and po