hat she accepted the promise of a
single to-morrow without misgivings. Sufficient unto the day was the
wonder thereof!

She drew from her pocket a wristlet of diamonds, which Lois had given
her as they parted at Amzi's door. The gems sparkled in the sunny
window. It was a trinket of beauty and value, and Phil clasped it upon
her wrist and contemplated it with awe and delight. It was worth, she
assumed, almost or quite as much as the house in which she lived; and
yet her mother had bestowed it upon her with gay apologies for its
paltriness--this mother out of a fairy-tale, this girlish mother with
the wise, beautiful eyes, and most entrancing of voices.

The gate clicked and she glanced down at the yard. Her father was
bringing Rose and Nan to the house! They were walking briskly, and
advanced to the door laughing. The women looked up, saw Phil, and waved
their hands. Her father flung a snowball at the window. Happiness was in
the faces of the trio--a happiness that struck Phil with forebodings.
She had never in her imaginings thought an hour would come when she
would begrudge her father any joy that might come to him; even less had
it ever seemed possible that she would look forward with dread to
meeting Rose and Nan. She hid her mother's gift and ran down to let them
in.

"You remember," said her father, "the Maryland epicure's remark about
the turkey being an annoying bird--just a leetle too big for one and not
quite big enough for two? I decided to see how it would work for four."

"We didn't know we were coming, Phil, when we saw you. Your father came
along afterward and found we were going to eat a plain, domestic duck by
ourselves; and we weakly, meekly fell," explained Rose.

"There can't be a real Christmas unless there's a party; and I thought
it about time we had a quiet little celebration of 'The Gray Knight of
Picardy'--seventh edition now printing, and the English rights well
placed. Phil, it's up to you to carry on the literary partnership with
Nan. I'm out of it. I'm going to write the publisher at once to go ahead
and enlighten the wondering world as to the authorship of the 'Gray
Knight'--Miss Nancy Bartlett, of Buckeye Lane!"

"You shall do nothing of the kind, Tom," declared Nan with emphasis; and
immediately blushed.

This was the first time Phil had heard Nan call her father by his first
name. To be sure, he always addressed both Nan and Rose by their
Christian names; but that was not surpri