All were satisfied with this arrangement.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, but very cold.

Harry held service in the morning in his church, and of course Mrs.

Hazeley and Flora were present. Everything was in readiness to start away immediately at its close.

"It will not really matter; and we cannot miss seeing our Harry conduct his first Christmas service," said Flora, positively.

The exercises were simple but impressive; the singing sweet and solemn--the sermon earnest and tender. It seemed to Flora as if she were shut in from everything, and that she really moved among the circ.u.mstances connected with the Saviour's birth. It seemed to her that she was with the wise men who brought gifts, and came to worship the infant Jesus; and the words of the anthem, "Glory to G.o.d in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men," echoed and re-echoed through her whole being. "Truly," she thought, "that peace has entered my soul, and how can I have aught but 'good will to men'?"

Mrs. Hazeley's feelings found expression by the tears rolling down her cheeks under her veil. Flora saw them, but knew they were for joy.

Never had Harry spoken as he spoke that morning. He scarcely recognized himself in the preacher whose impa.s.sioned words were holding spell-bound the people who filled the church, drawing from them alternately tears of sympathy and smiles of joy.

When the service was at an end, and the usual interchange of Christmas wishes over, the young minister joined his mother and sister, who were waiting for him, and, with one upon each arm, directed his steps to the depot, where they boarded the cars for Alec's home.

Flora felt too peaceful and happy to talk, and, in fact, they were all disinclined for conversation, and so the short journey was made in silence. True to his word, Alec was at the station to welcome them, and delighted that they had all come.

He conducted them to a carriage he had in waiting, and helped them in.

"What do you want to ride to Major Joe's for?" asked Harry. "It is such a short distance."

"Oh, I want you to ride to-day, so ask no more questions," was the saucy reply.

"Alec has some new project in his head," whispered Flora to her mother, who nodded and smiled, as if anything and everything were in order, so far as she was concerned.

Harry asked no more questions, but was busy looking about him, and trying to decide where they were going; if to Major Joe's, why take such a roundabout course? All to no avail, however, and he abandoned the matter to the driver.

There was no snow, to cover with its white, glittering blanket, the rough spots, but the brightness of the sun made amends for this lack by gilding the bare places. It was a green Christmas, but there was a lurking promise of snows and storms yet to come, in the brisk, sharp wind, that drove the withered leaves--reminders of the summer's beauty--along, as Flora remarked, "like little, old women dressed in brown, and caught in a wind-storm." Alec noticed, as they drove along, that his brother still glanced about inquiringly, evidently not yet satisfied as to the road to Major Joe's from the station. Alec was amused. It was so long since Harry had been there, he felt sure he could not remember. It was with a view to drawing his attention from this, and thus prevent his asking more questions, that Alec began to talk diligently. He pointed out the different objects of interest along the way, and then would branch off into a series of remarks or conjectures concerning them.

"This now," he said, pointing to a pretty house they were pa.s.sing, "is Mrs. Brown's new residence. Isn't it tasteful? Contains all the latest modern improvements--at least, so they say. And here is the homestead of a well-to-do widow. Very benevolent. Quite a good thing for widows." He was interrupted by Flora's inquiry:

"Why widows especially?"

"Oh, because, you see, all they need is to have just enough to keep them comfortably while they live. They don't care about making improvements, and buying or speculating as a general thing, like----"

"Like what?" asked Harry, drily, as his brother paused.

"Well, like me, for instance," returned Alec.

"So, I suppose you think there is no necessity for you to be benevolent."

"It's not but that I should, so much as I cannot afford to be. You see, I am a young man, and I need to be very prudent about the way I invest what money I have, in order to acc.u.mulate a little more."

"Oh, Alec," laughed Flora, "you certainly have acc.u.mulated a pretty good stock of self-complacency, and have cultivated a fine opinion of yourself."

"Yes," returned Alec, good-humoredly, touching up his horse with the end of his whip. "One must blow his own trumpet, if no one else will for him."

"Bad policy, my boy," interposed Harry, who seemed for the time being, to feel himself a boy again. "Bad policy. It is better not to have a trumpet blown at all, than to do it yourself. True worth will always receive its proper recognition."

"Not always; you are wrong there," said Alec, his eyes twinkling mischievously at the success of his plan for diverting his brother's attention.

"Yes, always," persisted Harry. "Probably not from the direction you desire, or are looking toward; but, if one looks in the right direction, he will find that if he is worthy of esteem, honor, and respect, he will get it from those upon whom his course has made an impression. The trouble is, that people often look too far away. Either they do not think to look among those immediately about them, and among whom they live, or they do not place the proper value upon their opinions and respect."

"Well, well," said Alec, coolly, as he drew up before the gate of a new and very pretty cottage. "I am very much obliged to you for your valuable homily. I hope I shall profit by it. But, my dear brother, 'all is well that ends well'; and as my chief object in engaging you in conversation was to give you something to think about besides which way we were going, I am delighted that I was successful." And with a polite bow, the saucy fellow jumped down and proceeded to help his pa.s.sengers to alight.

CHAPTER XIX.

A HOMELY WEDDING.

No sooner had the little party alighted, than the cottage door flew open, and a crowd of familiar faces met their astonished gaze.

There was the old major, wrinkled and lame, leaning on his cane, but smiling as if he had forgotten that there was any "rheumatiz" in the world.

There was the bright-faced little Jem of long ago, now grown into a stout maiden, and looking as sober and matter-of-fact as ever.

And motherly little Ruth was there, with her face wreathed in smiles.

There was good Mrs. Benson, busy and bustling with the weight of some unusual responsibility.

Such a royal welcome as our friends received. Tongues were kept busy with stories of the generosity of the dear old Saint Nicholas, and wishes for the new year.

"What a pretty house!" exclaimed Flora, as the hum of voices was lessening.

"I am glad you like it, sister mine," returned Alec who was at her side, "because, you know, it belongs to me."

"To you? Then you have been industrious in all these years. Are you going to live here all alone?"

"Yes, you are right there, Flora," Alec answered, totally ignoring her question. "I have worked hard, and saved too. But, there! I am blowing my own trumpet again, in spite of Hal's lecture!" And he glanced roguishly at his brother.

But Harry only smiled.

"What on earth do you want with a whole house?" asked Flora, curiously.

"Are the major and Mrs. Benson going to live with you?" she added, wishing to understand it all.

"No," said Alec, "they are going back home."

Flora and Harry were thoroughly puzzled, and from time to time glanced at their brother questioningly, as if they feared he was joking them.

Flora noticed, however, what the others were all too busy to see, that Alec was constantly glancing out of the front window, as if expecting some one.

At last her curiosity and his evident uneasiness were both satisfied; for a buggy drove up to the door, and from it alighted a young girl and an elderly woman, and--Joel Piper, who after dismissing the conveyance came toward the house, where they were met by Alec, who presented them triumphantly to the rest.

"Lottie Piper, is this you?" cried Flora.

The young girl was really Lottie, and the elderly woman was Mrs.