ither.

"So I perceive!" said Mrs. Grahame, who was walking soberly along, even
deigning to protect her bonnet with a prosaic umbrella.

"I feel rather doubtful about taking you, Hildegarde. Suppose you should
turn round and smile at the little boy behind you, as you did the first
time I took you to church!"

But by the time they reached the old stone church, Hildegarde was grave
enough. This was the best of all, she said to herself, as she took her
place in the choir, and heard Bell's firm touch on the keys of the organ
behind her.

The Pastoral Symphony! Hildegarde gave a long sigh of pure happiness,
and leaned back in her seat. She might have known Bell would play it!
She knew that her friend was to take the organist's place during the
Christmas vacation; but she did not know that somehow, in all the hurry
and happy bustle of yesterday, two young musicians had contrived, by
hook or by crook, to get an hour's practice together in the church, as a
Christmas surprise for her very own self, and when, above the deep,
throbbing tones of the organ, rose the exquisite voice of the violin,
Hildegarde felt her cup very full indeed, and hardly tried to check the
thankful tears that sprang to her eyes. The church was full of the warm
fragrance of balsam fir; the long garlands of green clothed the old gray
walls with a lovely grace; she saw her mother's face in the pew near by;
the music soared heavenward and her soul mounted with it. "Glory to God
in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will to men!" When it came her
turn to sing, she felt heaven near, indeed, and the peace of blessedness
descending on her.

By noon it had stopped snowing; by three o'clock the sky was clear and
the world lay white and glittering, a new thing under a sky of crystal.

"Just like the biggest plummy cake that ever was baked!" cried Willy
Merryweather as he capered about before his toboggan. The clan was
gathering for the first tobogganing of the season. Here was Mr.
Merryweather, tall and stalwart, in a fur cap big enough for the Czar of
all the Russias; Here were all the children, big and little, in "muffs
and furs and fluffs," all rosy and happy and beaming; here was
Hildegarde, in moccasins, and the prettiest scarlet blanket-suit;
finally, here was Jack Ferrers, striding across the fields at a
tremendous rate when he saw that the others were waiting for him.

"Oh, Jack! couldn't Hugh come?" cried Hildegarde, as her cousin came up.
"He lo