nday. Yes, it was best to
meet them in a body on a festive occasion like this, when the rigors
of the village point of view were relaxed. It would relieve him of
several dozen private visits of apology, and altogether he felt that
his courage would have wavered had he not been disguised as another
person altogether: a popular favorite; a fat jolly, rollicking
dispenser of bounties to the general public. When he finally discarded
his costume, would it not be easier, too, to meet his father first
before the church full of people and have the solemn hour with him
alone, later at night? Yes, as Mrs. Todd said, "Mebbe 'twas a
Providence!"

* * * * *

There was never such a merry Christmas festival in the Orthodox church
of Beulah; everybody was of one mind as to that. There was a momentary
fear that John Trimble, a pillar of prohibition, might have imbibed
hard cider; so gay, so nimble, so mirth-provoking was Santa Claus.
When was John Trimble ever known to unbend sufficiently to romp up the
side aisle jingling his sleigh bells, and leap over a front pew
stuffed with presents, to gain the vantage-ground he needed for the
distribution of his pack? The wing pews on one side of the pulpit had
been floored over and the Christmas Tree stood there, triumphant in
beauty, while the gifts strewed the green-covered platform at its
feet.

How gay, how audacious, how witty was Santa Claus! How the village had
always misjudged John Trimble, and how completely had John Trimble
hitherto obscured his light under a bushel. In his own proper person
children avoided him, but they crowded about this Santa Claus,
encircling his legs, gurgling with joy when they were lifted to his
shoulder, their laughter ringing through the church at his droll
antics. A sense of mystery grew when he opened a pack on the pulpit
stairs, a pack unfamiliar in its outward aspect to the Committee on
Entertainment. Every girl had a little doll dressed in fashionable
attire, and every boy a brilliantly colored, splendidly noisy, tin
trumpet; but hanging to every toy by a red ribbon was Mrs. Larrabee's
Christmas card; her despised one about the "folks back home."

[Illustration: HANDS THAT TREMBLED, AS EVERYBODY COULD SEE]

The publishers' check to the minister's wife had been accompanied by a
dozen complimentary copies, but these had been sent to Reba's Western
friends and relations; and although the card was on many a
marble-topped