gay with flowers; on the stone wall a row of
milk-pans flashed back the afternoon sun; the whole air of the place was
cheerful and friendly.

"I expect Miss Fidely's all right!" said Calvin with emphasis. "Smart
woman, to judge by the looks of her pans, and there's nothing better to
go by as I know of. Them's as bright as Miss Hands's, and more than that
I can't say. Now you hop out, Mittie May, and ask her will she step out
and see the goods, or shall I bring in any special line?"

The child stared. "She can't come out!" she said. "Miss Fidely can't
walk."

"Can't walk!" repeated Calvin.

"No! and the path ain't shovelled wide enough for her to come out. Come
in and see her, please!"

His eyes very round, Calvin followed the child up the narrow path and in
at the low door. Then he stopped short.

The door opened directly into a long, low room, the whole width of the
house. The whitewashed walls were like snow, the bare floor was painted
bright yellow, with little islands of rag carpet here and there. There
were a few quaint old rush-bottomed chairs, and in one corner what
looked like a child's trundle-bed, gay with a splendid sunflower quilt.
These things Calvin saw afterwards; the first glance showed him only the
Tree and its owner. It was a low, spreading tree, filling one end of the
room completely. Strings of pop-corn festooned the branches, and flakes
of cotton-wool snow were cunningly disposed here and there. Bright
apples peeped from amid the green, and from every tip hung a splendid
star of tinsel or tin foil. No "boughten stuff" these; all through the
year Miss Fidely patiently begged from her neighbors: from the women the
tinsel on their button-cards, from the men the "silver" that wrapped
their tobacco. Carefully pressed under the big Bible, they waited till
Christmas, to become the glory of the Tree. The presents might not have
impressed a city child much, for every one was made by Miss Fidely
herself; the aprons, the mittens, the cotton-flannel rabbits and
bottle-dolls for the tiny ones, the lace-trimmed sachets and bows for
the older girls. Mittie May, all forgetful of marble palaces, stole one
glance of delighted awe, and then remembered her manners.

"Here's the Candy Man, Miss Fidely!" she said.

Miss Fidely turned quickly; she had been tying an apple to one of the
lower branches with scarlet worsted.

"Pleased to meet you!" she said. "Do take a seat, won't you? I can't
rise, myself, so you