threshold
to say to Roger:

"We shall all be away to-morrow. We are to dine at General Dick's.
But I am going to church in the morning--the six o'clock service. It's
lovely with the snow and the stars. There'll be just Barry and me.
Won't you come?"

He hesitated. Then, "No," he said, "no," and lest she should think him
unappreciative, he added, "I never go to church."

She came back to him and stood by the fire. "Don't you believe in it?"
She was plainly troubled for him. "Don't you believe in the angels and
the shepherds, and the wise men, and the Babe in the Manger?"

"No," he said dully, "I don't believe."

"Oh," it was almost a cry, "then what does Christmas mean to you? What
can it mean to anybody who doesn't believe in the Babe and the Star in
the East?"

"It means this, Mary Ballard," he said, impetuously, "that out of all
my unbelief--I believe in you--in your friendliness. And that is my
star shining just now in the darkness."

She would have been less than a woman if she had not been thrilled by
such a tribute. So she blushed shyly. "I'm glad," she said and smiled
up at him.

But as she went down-stairs, the smile faded. It was as if the shadow
of the Tower Rooms were upon her. As if the loneliness and sadness of
Roger Poole had become hers. As if his burden was added to her other
burdens.

Aunt Frances, more regal than ever in gold and amethyst brocade, was
presiding over a mountainous pile of white boxes, behind which the
unlighted tree spread its branches.

"My child," she said reprovingly, as Mary entered, "I wonder if you
were ever in time for anything."

And Porter whispered in Mary's ear as he led her to the piano: "Is this
a merry Christmas or a Contrary-Mary Christmas? You look as if you had
the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She shook her head. Tears were very near the surface. He saw it and
was jealously unhappy. What had brought her in this mood from the
Tower Rooms?

And now Barry turned off the lights, and in the darkness Mary struck
the first chords and began to sing, "Holy Night----"

As her voice throbbed through the stillness, little stars shone out
upon the tree until it was all in shining glory.

Up-stairs, Roger heard Mary singing. He went to his window and drew
back the curtains. Outside the world was wrapped in snow. The lights
from the lower windows shone on the fountain, and showed the little
bronze boy in a winding sheet of white.