hristmas as in New England. The
dictum was a happy one.

"Yes," she assented with fervour, "and is n't Warwick beautiful? I
never go away, even to Europe, without realising when I come back that
Warwick is the most beautiful place in the world. Thank God, I was
born and brought up in New England!"

"And thank God, I was n't!" he retorted.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, turning upon him with shocked
asperity.

"I merely mean that my view would have been limited for life to the
vista that may be obtained from the steps of the First Church--not that
it is n't a fine one, in its way."

The genial banter of his tone softened her resentment to curiosity.

"Where in Heaven's name were you brought up?" she asked.

"Let me see. An account of my peregrinations would read like a list of
most of the States of the Union. One gets an idea of the country by
such a nomadic existence, and does n't make the mistake of supposing
that the tail wags the dog, instead of the dog wagging the tail."

"I suppose you mean to imply that New England is the tail," she said
with trembling intensity, "when every one knows it's the head and
brains of the country. I've never been west of Niagara Falls, and I 'm
proud of it."

"You have reason to be," he replied with gravity. "I was only testing
your loyalty. Where is our Mecca of patriotism and literature, if it
is n't New England? My remark about the New England Christmas was
suggested by a memory of 'Snow-Bound,' which was one of the classics of
my youth, when I used to look out discontentedly upon our inferior
Western brand of snow."

"I can't make you out," she said.

When they entered the house, she laid aside her wraps and gave him a
cup of tea, supplemented by the thinnest of thin wafers, after which
she conducted him from room to room on a tour of inspection.

"Are you interested in Colonial furniture?" she questioned.

"I 'm anxious to learn enough about it to get interested," he assured
her. "I see you have a great deal of it here."

"A great many people have," she answered. "It's easy enough to pick up
imitations in the second-hand shops, or to ransack country houses; but
these pieces are all genuine and have been in the family for
generations. There are three Chippendales that belonged to my
grandfather on my mother's side, Colonel Styles, and this is a
Sheraton. That mahogany table with the low-hanging leaves is a genuine
Pembroke. Do you see that