upport her, it may as
well help along a little. Cicely is a good girl, and I wish there were
more like her."

And Theodora's assent was a hearty one.

"Phebe, how long is Mr. Barrett going to stay up here?" Theodora asked, a
day or two before Christmas.

"I don't know."

"I thought he was going, to-morrow morning."

"Well, is he?"

"Probably not, inasmuch as I heard him ask you to go to drive with him,
in the afternoon"

"Well, what difference does it make? He's free to stay at the hotel as
long as he likes; isn't he?"

"Yes, if he doesn't starve in the meantime. But it seems to me it
would be well to ask him here to Christmas dinner, if he is going to
be in town."

"I wouldn't."

"Why not?" Theodora asked, in some surprise.

"Christmas is no day to ask strangers here."

"But Mr. Barrett isn't a stranger. Besides, he has been so good to Cicely
that I think we owe him a little hospitality."

"You must do as you like, then," Phebe said curtly, and she marched away
out of the room, leaving Theodora to knit her brows m anxious perplexity.

However, the next afternoon, the snow was falling heavily, and Phebe's
drive was out of the question. At the appointed hour, she glanced out of
the window to see Gifford Barrett wading up the path to the front door,
and she vanished to her own room.

"Come in," she said, in answer to her mother's knock.

"Mr. Barrett is here, Phebe."

"Is he?"

"Yes, he has asked for you."

"But I'm busy."

"Never mind, Babe. Please hurry down, for I am too busy to stay with him,
and I don't like to leave him alone."

"Oh, I really don't think he would steal the spoons," Phebe said
languidly, as she rose. "Well, if I must, I suppose I must. I'll be down
before long."

She turned to her closet and took down a dark red gown which had just
come home from the dressmaker. It was the most becoming gown she had ever
owned, and Phebe was quite aware of the fact. She laid it on the bed and
stood looking at it for a minute or two. Then she shut her lips
resolutely, hung it up again, picked a loose thread or two from the plain
blue gown she wore, and marched down the stairs.

Mr. Barrett rose to greet her, as she came stalking into the room. His
manner was boyishly eager, his eyes brimming with mischief, as he took
her hand and then offered her a small round package wrapped in dainty
blue papers.

"Merry Christmas, Miss McAlister! Wasn't it too bad of the snow to spoil
our drive?"