uld murmur her patron an occasional warning: "Mis'
Sykes, throw back your shoulders, you hev to, to bring out the real set
o' the basque;" or, "Don't forget you want to give a little hitch to the
back when you stand up, Mis' Sykes." And to one and another Liddy said
proudly, "I declare if I didn't get that skirt with the butterflies just
like a magazine cover." And there, too, was Ellen Ember, wearing a white
book muslin and a rosy "nubia" that had been her mother's; and Ellen's
face was uplifted, and of pale distinction under the bronze glory of her
hair, but all that evening she smiled and sang and wondered, in utter
absence of the spirit. ("Oh," poor Miss Liddy said, "I do so want Ellen
to come herself before supper. She won't remember a thing she eats, an'
she don't have much that's tasty an' good. It'll be just like she missed
the whole thing, in spite of all the chore o' comin'.") And there were
Mis' Doctor Helman in her new wine silk; Mis' Banker Mason in the
black-and-white foulard designed to grace a festival or to respect a
tomb; Mis' Sturgis, in a put-away dress that was a surprise to every
one; Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss, and Eppleby, and the "Other"
Holcombs; Abigail Arnold, the Gekerjecks, Mis' Toplady and Timothy, even
Mis' Mayor Uppers--no one was forgotten. And--save poor Ellen--every one
was aglow with the sweet satisfaction of having sent abroad a brave
array of pretty things, with stitches of rose and blue on flowered
fabrics, with the flutter of ribbons, and the breath of sachets, and
with many a gift of substance to those less generously endowed. To them
all the delight of the season was in the gifts of their hands and in the
night's merry-making, and in the joy of keeping holiday. Here, as
Calliope had said, Christmas, begun in a stocking, was ending in a
candle.

And yet it was Star of Bethlehem night, the night of Him who "didn't
mention givin' _things_ at all."

X

LONESOME.--I

Calliope and I were talking over the Proudfit party, as I had grown to
like to talk over most things with her, when I said something of two of
the guests whom I did not remember before to have seen: a little man of
shy gravity and an extremely pretty girl who, if she looked at any one
but him, did so quite undetected.

"That's Eb Goodnight," Calliope replied, "him of the new-born spine.
Wasn't it like the Proudfits to ask them?"

And, at my question:

"Some folks," Calliope said, "has got spines a