h all they had seen at the
farm-houses on the road. Margaret had arranged a settle for the sick
girl by the kitchen-fire, but they all came out to speak to her.

As for the dinner, it was the essence of all Christmas dinners: Dickens
himself, the priest of the genial day, would have been contented. The
old schoolmaster and his wife had hearts big and warm enough to do the
perpetual honors of a baronial castle; so you may know how the little
room and the faces about the homely table glowed and brightened. Even
Knowles began to think that Holmes might not be so bad, after all,
recalling the chicken in the mill, and,--

"Well, it was better to think well of all men, poor devils!"

I am sorry to say there was a short thunder-storm in the very midst of
the dinner. Knowles and Mr. Howth, in their anxiety to keep off from
ancient subjects of dispute, came, for a wonder, on modern politics, and
of course there was a terrible collision, which made Mrs. Howth quite
breathless: it was over in a minute, however, and it was hard to tell
which was the most repentant. Knowles, as you know, was a disciple of
Garrison, and the old schoolmaster was (will the "Atlantic"
bear it?) a States'-rights man, as you might expect from his
antecedents,--suspected, indeed, of being a contributor to "De Bow's
Review." I may as well come out with the whole truth, and acknowledge
that at the present writing the old gentleman is the very hottest
Secessionist I know. If it hurts the type, write it down a vice of
blood, O printers of New England!--or else, like Uncle Toby's recording
angel, drop a tear upon the word, and blot it out forever.

The dinner, perhaps, was fresher and heartier after that. Then Knowles
went back to town; and in the middle of the afternoon, as it grew dusk,
Lois started, knowing how many would come into her little shanty in the
evening to wish her Happy Christmas, although it was over. They piled up
comforts and blankets in the cart, and she lay on them quite snugly, her
scarred child's-face looking out from a great woollen hood Mrs. Howth
gave her. Old Yare held Barney, with his hat in his hand, looking as if
he deserved hanging, but very proud of the kindness they all showed his
girl. Holmes gave him some money for a Christmas gift, and he took it,
eagerly enough. For some unexpressed reason, they stood a long time in
the snow bidding Lois good-bye; and for the same reason, it may be, she
was loath to go, looking at each one