stmas, has sustained a particle of harm from the snowy journey
to North Estabrook, tucked away though it is among the hills, where the
drifts are deep.

Taking them all together they are quite a company. And as Father and
Mother Fernald are getting rather well along in years, and such a
house-party means a good deal of preparation, last year their younger
daughter Nan, and her husband, Sam Burnett: and their youngest son, Guy,
and his wife of a year, Margaret: went up to North Estabrook two days
ahead of the rest, to help with the finishing labours. Sam Burnett and
Guy Fernald, being busy young men all the year round, thought it great
sport to get up into the country in the winter, and planned, for a
fortnight beforehand, to be able to manage this brief vacation. As for
Nan and Margaret--they are always the best of friends. As for Father and
Mother Fernald----

"I don't know but this is the best part of the party," mused John
Fernald, looking from one to another of them, and then at his wife, as
they sat together before the fireplace, on the evening of the arrival.
"It was all over so quick, last year, and you were all piling back to
town, to your offices, in such a hurry, you boys. Now we can have a
spell of quiet talk, before the fun begins. That suits us to a T --eh,
Mother?"

Mrs. Fernald nodded, smiling. Her hand, held fast in Guy's, rested on
his knee; Nan's charming head, with its modish dressing, lay against
her shoulder. What more could a mother ask? Across the fireplace, Sam
Burnett, most satisfactory of sons-in-law, and Margaret, Guy's best
beloved, who had made the year one long honeymoon to him--so he
declared--completed the little circle.

There was much to talk about. To begin with, there was everybody in
North Estabrook to inquire after; and though North Estabrook is but
a very small village, it takes time to inquire after everybody. Quite
suddenly, having asked solicitously concerning a very old woman, who
had nursed most of the Fernald children in their infancy and was always
remembered by them with affection, it occurred to Nan to put a question
which had been on her mind ever since she had come into town on the
afternoon stage.

"Speaking of Aunt Eliza, Mother, makes me think of the old church. She
used to talk so much about liking to hear the bell ring, right up over
her head, next door. _Does_ the bell ever ring, these days--or have
cobwebs grown over the clapper?"

A shadow dropped upon Mr