whence she
came; at the door she stopped.

"Carmencita! Carmencita!" It was Van Landing's voice. She turned her
head. "Come here, Carmencita. I have something to tell you."

Eyes awed and shining, Carmencita came slowly up the steps. Reaching
them, with a spring she threw her arms around her dear friend's neck
and kissed her lips again and again and again, then held out her hands
to the man beside her. "Is--is it to be to-morrow, Mr. Van?"

"It is to be to-morrow, Carmencita."

For a half-moment there was quivering silence; then Van Landing spoke
again. "There are some things I must attend to to-night. Early
to-morrow I will come for you, Frances, and in Dr. Pierson's church we
will be married. Herrick and Miss Davis are coming at one o'clock, and
my--wife must be there to receive them. And you, too, Carmencita--you
and your father. We are going to have--" Van Landing's voice was
unsteady. "We are going to have Christmas at home, Frances. Christmas
at home!"

CHAPTER XVI

Lifting herself on her elbow, Carmencita listened. There was no sound
save the ticking of the little clock on the mantel. For a moment she
waited, then with a swift movement of her hand threw back the covering
on the cot, slipped from it, and stood, barefooted, in her nightgown,
in the middle of the floor. Head on the side, one hand to her mouth,
the other outstretched as if for silence from some one unseen, she
raised herself on tiptoe and softly, lightly, crossed the room to the
door opening into the smaller room wherein her father slept. Hand on
the knob, she listened, and, the soft breathing assuring her he was
asleep, she closed the door, gave a deep sigh of satisfaction, and
hurried back to the cot, close to which she sat down, put on her
stockings, and tied on her feet a pair of worn woolen slippers, once
the property of her prudent and practical friend, Miss Cattie Burns.
Slipping on her big coat over her gown, she tiptoed to the mantel,
lighted the candle upon it, and looked at the clock.

"Half past twelve," she said, "and Father's stocking not filled yet!"

As she got down from the chair on which she had stood to see the hour
her foot caught in the ripped hem of her coat. She tripped, and would
have fallen had she not steadied herself against the table close to
the stove, and as she did so she laughed under her breath.

"Really this kimono is much too long." She looked down on the loosened
hem. "And I oughtn't to wear my