s of Christmas
things to grow stronger. He himself could hardly believe that it was no
worse, when he found himself seated by the littered table, with Mrs.
Bilton near and Mr. Bilton over by the fire again, listening to first
one and then the other, and occasionally letting fall a word himself,
his conversational powers seeming to thaw out along with the snow on
his greatcoat. These words themselves were a surprise to him. He was
quite sure that he started them with a creditable gruffness, but the
Christmas air mellowed them in a highly unsatisfactory fashion, so that
they fell on his own ears quite otherwise than as he had meant they
should sound. Moreover the general tenor of the conversation was
exceedingly perplexing. It was all about how fine it was of him to come
this evening, and how they had often regretted the hard feeling, and how
things always did get exaggerated. Of course he would not have believed
a word of it, if he had been able to get any grip on the situation, but
he wasn't, and he just went on assenting to it all as if it were true.
There came a time when Mr. Bilton cleared his throat, hesitated a
moment, and then said boldly,--

"I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Gilton, that I had nothing whatever to
do with the death of your dog." Mr. Gilton felt the ground slipping
away from under his very feet. That dog had been his piece of
resistance, as it were. "I wouldn't have poisoned him," went on Mr.
Bilton, "for a hundred dollars. But," he added, with a queer little
smile, "I wasn't going to tell you so, you know."

"Of course you wasn't," exclaimed Mr. Gilton, hurriedly, with a touch of
that unholy excitement that a lapse from grammar imparts.

"We wouldn't any of us," asserted Walter.

"No," said Susan, Fanny, and Cora Cordelia.

Then it came out that the whole family had rather admired the dog than
otherwise. It was here that John did really come in, his entrance
sounding very much as had Mr. Gilton's. He nearly fell over when he saw
the visitor, but he had time to pull himself together, for Cora Cordelia
had snatched that moment for showing Mr. Gilton her gifts for the
family, and he was bound hand and foot with helplessness. Then they all
came and showed him their gifts. While he examined them Mr. and Mrs.
Bilton carefully averted their eyes and gazed hard at the opposite wall,
while Cora Cordelia urged him, in stage whispers, not to let them
suspect. It was pitiable the state to which he was re