les.

But the greatest rush came around Christmas time. Lucia Day--when the
housemaid went about dressed in white, with candles in her hair, and
served coffee to everybody at five in the morning--came as a sort of
reminder that for the next two weeks they could not count on much sleep.
For now they must brew the Christmas ale, steep the Christmas fish in
lye, and do their Christmas baking and Christmas scouring.

She was in the middle of the baking, with pans of Christmas buns and
cooky platters all around her, when the driver drew in the reins at the
end of the lane as she had requested. She started like one suddenly
awakened from a sound sleep. It was dismal for her who had just dreamed
herself surrounded by all her people to be sitting alone in the late
evening. As she stepped from the wagon and started to walk up the long
lane that she might come unobserved to her old home, she felt so keenly
the contrast between then and now that she would have preferred to turn
back.

"Of what use is it to come here?" she sighed. "It can't be the same as
in the old days!"

On the other hand she felt that since she had travelled such a long
distance, she would see the place at all events, so continued to walk
on, although she was more depressed with every step that she took.

She had heard that it was very much changed; and it certainly was! But
she did not observe this now in the evening. She thought, rather, that
everything was quite the same. There was the pond, which in her youth
had been full of carp and where no one dared fish, because it was
father's wish that the carp should be left in peace. Over there were the
men-servants' quarters, the larder and barn, with the farm yard bell
over one gable and the weather-vane over the other. The house yard was
like a circular room, with no outlook in any direction, as it had been
in her father's time--for he had not the heart to cut down as much as a
bush.

She lingered in the shadow under the big mountain-ash at the entrance to
the farm, and stood looking about her. As she stood there a strange
thing happened; a flock of doves came and lit beside her.

She could hardly believe that they were real birds, for doves are not in
the habit of moving about after sundown. It must have been the beautiful
moonlight that had awakened these. They must have thought it was dawn
and flown from their dove-cotes, only to become confused, hardly knowing
where they were. When they saw a human b