backed by the dark cedars, and the moon and the snow made
everything dazzling. I could see the firelight through the open
window, the Hessian soldier andirons, your mother's portrait, the
children asleep in the next room, and you, wrapped in your cape
waiting or watching for something or somebody."

"I wasn't watching or waiting! I was dreaming," said Letty hurriedly.

"You looked as if you were watching, anyway, and I thought if I were
painting the picture I would call it 'Expectancy,' or 'The Vigil,' or
'Sentry Duty.' However, when I make you into a card, Letty, nobody
will know what the figure at the window means, till they read my
verses."

"I'll give you the house, the room, the andirons, and even mother's
portrait, but you don't mean that you want to put _me_ on the card?"
And Letty turned like a startled deer as she rose and brushed a spark
from the hearth-rug.

"No, not the whole of you, of course, though I'm not clever enough to
get a likeness even if I wished. I merely want to make a color sketch
of your red-brown cape, your hair that matches it, your ear, an inch
of cheek, and the eyelashes of one eye, if you please, ma'am."

"That doesn't sound quite so terrifying." And Letty looked more
manageable.

"Nobody'll ever know that a real person sat at a real window and that
I saw her there; but when I send the card with a finished picture, and
my verses beautifully lettered on it, the printing people will be more
likely to accept it."

"And if they do, shall I have a dozen to give to my Bible-class?"
asked Letty in a wheedling voice.

"You shall have more than that! I'm willing to divide my magnificent
profits with you. You will have furnished the picture and I the
verses. It's wonderful, Letty,--it's providential! You just _are_ a
Christmas card to-night! It seems so strange that you even put the
lighted candle in the window when you never heard my verse. The candle
caught my eye first, and I remembered the Christmas customs we studied
for the church festival,--the light to guide the Christ Child as he
walks through the dark streets on the Eve of Mary."

"Yes, I thought of that," said Letty, flushing a little. "I put the
candle there first so that the house shouldn't be all dark when the
Pophams went by to choir-meeting, and just then I--I remembered, and
was glad I did it!"

"These are my verses, Letty." And Reba's voice was soft as she turned
her face away and looked at the flames mounting upward