The sunlight fell softly through Annette’s window and across the reading desk as Dr. Barrows began the afternoon service in the chapel on the day before Christmas. The air was fragrant with the odor of cedar and pine, and against the dark oak wainscoting the holly berries shone warm and bright, as he read: “The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, and the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary.”
Caro sat with her hand clasped in her mother’s, the happiness of Christmas shining in her face; across the aisle was Marjorie with Charlie and Alice.
Just as the president began to read, the door opened and Thompson swiftly and noiselessly wheeled his master to a place at one side of the pulpit, and withdrew. Caro thought Walter[79] must be lonely there by himself, so after a moment’s hesitation, with a smile she withdrew her hand from her mother’s and stole softly up to the front seat close to the invalid.
Miss Elizabeth saw her from the back of the chapel where she sat, and tears came to her eyes. She had not wanted her brother to come, and now here was this child taking the place that should have been hers.
When her grandfather read his text Caro looked up at Walter and smiled; it seemed meant for them she thought.
“To give light to them that sit in darkness.”
It is to be doubted if the president ever preached a better sermon, and yet it was only a simple little talk that the children could understand, about the Light-bringer whose love could penetrate the darkest clouds of sin or sorrow, and whose followers must in their turn become light-bearers.
Caro listened, looking up at the Good Shepherd, who again seemed to smile on her. But after they had sung, “It came upon the midnight clear”—and the benediction had been pronounced, the merry side of Christmas became uppermost. There was Charlie exclaiming,[80] “Walter old fellow I am so glad to see you!” and shaking hands warmly, and Alice and Mrs. Holland with quieter greetings. Marjorie and Tom of course joined Caro, and the president came down and added one more to the group around Walter.
At the door Miss Elizabeth waited, unable to escape altogether the friendly greetings, trying not to be impatient, while near her stood Thompson with a beaming face. This was something like living he thought.
There is something about Christmas eve which makes it different from all other evenings. There is a thrill of expectancy in the air that no one can quite escape, even though his head is grey. Caro and Marjorie skipped down the stone walk in the frosty air, hand in hand, brimful of happiness; Charlie and Alice were beside Walter, and Dr. Barrows who walked with Miss Elizabeth thought his little granddaughter was right when she said this was going to be the best Christmas that ever happened.
“Remember,” said Walter, as they were separating, “that I depend on you to-morrow[81] to make my party a success. It is to be as much like old times as possible.”
“We’ll be on hand and do our best,” said Charlie. “Poor fellow! what a change from four years ago,” he added to his sister.
“And yet I can’t quite pity him. It must be because he is so brave,” Alice answered.
“And Bess, you will wear your prettiest gown, won’t you?” Walter had said coaxingly.
“You know I don’t care for such things any more,” Miss Elizabeth urged.
“But you must. I want you to look like a queen,” he insisted, and so when the Barrows arrived next evening they found their hostess in creamy satin and costly lace, with diamonds on her breast and in her dark hair. At sight of her Caro clasped her hands and cried, “Oh Miss Elizabeth you are perfectly beautiful!”
Her admiration was so evidently genuine that the lady could not help being pleased, and she stooped and kissed the rosy cheek.
“And how do you think we came?” asked Marjorie, dancing around till the blue bows on her flaxen braids danced too.
“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you,” cried Caro,[82] running to Walter’s side, “We cam............