e children. I suppose they're
going to meet Guy's wife's brother, that they've got up here to lead
these Christmas doings to-night. Queer idea, it strikes me."

Miss Jane Pollock, ensconsed behind the thick "lace curtains" of her
"best parlour," addressed her sister, who lay on the couch in the
sitting-room behind, an invalid who could seldom get out, but to whom
Miss Jane was accustomed faithfully to report every particle of current
news.

"I suppose they think," Miss Jane went on, with asperity, "they're going
to fix up the fuss in that church, with their greens and their city
minister preaching brotherly love. I can tell him he'll have to preach a
pretty powerful sermon to reach old George Tomlinson and Asa Fraser, and
make 'em notice each other as they pass by. And when I see Maria Hill
coming toward me with a smile on her face and her hand out I'll know
something's happened."

"I don't suppose," said the invalid sister rather timidly, from her
couch, "you would feel, Sister, as if you could put out your hand to
her first?"

"No, I don't," retorted Miss Jane, very positively. "And I don't see
how you can think it, Deborah. You know perfectly well it was Maria Hill
that started the whole thing--and then talked about me as if I was the
one. How that woman did talk--and talks yet! Don't get me thinking about
it. It's Christmas Day, and I want to keep my mind off such disgraceful
things as church quarrels--if the Fernald family'll let me. A pretty
bold thing to do, I call it--open up that church on their own
responsibility, and expect folks to come, and forget the past. --Debby,
I wish you could see Oliver's wife, in those furs of hers. She holds
her head as high as ever--but she's the only one of 'em that does it
disagreeably--I'll say that for 'em, if they _are_ all city folks now.
And of course she isn't a Fernald. --Here comes Nancy and her husband.
That girl don't look a minute older'n when she was married, five years
ago. My, but she's got a lot of style! I must say her skirts don't
hang like any North Estabrook dressmaker can make 'em. They're
walking--hurrying up to catch the rest. Sam Burnett's a good-looking
man, but he's getting a little stout."

"Jane," said the invalid sister, wistfully, "I wish I could go
to-night."

"Well, I wish you could. That is--if I go. I haven't just made up my
mind. I wonder if folks'll sit in their old pews. You know the Hills' is
just in front of ours. But as to your goin