n,
Major. It was always a mystery to me how you tolerated him."

"And a mystery to Mrs. Lightfoot," responded the Major, in a half whisper;
"but as I tell her, sir, you mustn't judge a man by his company, or a
'possum by his grin." Then he raised a well-filled glass and gave a toast
that brought even Mr. Bill upon his feet, "To Virginia, the home of brave
men and," he straightened himself, tossed back his hair, and bowed to the
ladies, "and of angels."

The Governor raised his glass with a smile, "To the angels who take pity
upon the men," he said.

"That more angels may take pity upon men," added the rector, rising from
his seat by the fireside, with a wink at the doctor.

And the toast was drunk, standing, while the girls ran up the crooked stair
to lay aside their wraps in a three-cornered bedroom.

As Virginia threw off her pink cloak and twirled round in her flaring
skirts, Betty gave a little gasp of admiration and stood holding the
lighted candle, with its sprig of holly, above her head. The tall girlish
figure, in its flounces of organdy muslin, with the smooth parting of
bright brown hair and the dovelike eyes, had flowered suddenly into a
beauty that took her breath away.

"Why, you are a vision--a vision!" she cried delightedly.

Virginia stopped short in her twirling and settled the illusion ruche over
her slim white shoulders. "It's the first time I've dressed like this, you
know," she said, glancing at herself in the dim old mirror.

"Ah, I'm not half so pretty," sighed Betty, hopelessly, "Is the rose in
place, do you think?" She had fastened a white rose in the thick coil on
her neck, where it lay half hidden by her hair.

"It looks just lovely," replied Virginia, heartily. "Do you hear some one
in the drive?" She went to the window, and looked out into the falling
snow, her bare shoulders shrinking from the frosted pane. "What a long ride
the boys have had, and how cold they'll be. Why, the ground is quite
covered with snow." Betty, with the candle still in her hand, turned from
the mirror, and gave a quick glance through the sloping window, to the
naked elms outside. "Ah, poor things, poor things!" she cried.

"But they have their riding cloaks," said Virginia, in her placid voice.

"Oh, I don't mean Dan and Champe and Big Abel," answered Betty, "I mean the
elms, the poor naked elms that wear their clothes all summer, and are
stripped bare for the cold. How I should like to warm you, you dear