* * * * *
It was evening when the car again approached the lonely house, and
Margaret, speaking down the connecting tube, directed the chauffeur to
drive at his slowest speed for the next quarter of a mile.
Jack was lying back in his corner, absorbed in happy dreams. Never so
long as he lived could he forget this Christmas Day, which had seen the
fulfilment of his hopes in Myra's sweetness, Myra's troth. Tom was fast
asleep, dreaming of "dorm." suppers, and other escapades of the last
term. The two sisters were as much alone as if the only occupants of the
car.
They craned forward, eager for the first glimpse of the house, and
caught sight of a beam of light athwart the darkness of the night.
The house was all black save for one window, but that was as a
lighthouse in a waste, for the curtains were undrawn, and fire and lamp
sent out a rosy glow which seemed the embodiment of cheer.
Against the white background of the wall a group of figures could be
seen standing together beneath the lamp; the strains of a harmonium
floated sweetly on the night air, a chorus of glad young voices singing
the well-known words:
"The King of Love my Shepherd is!"
With a common impulse the two girls waved their hands from the window as
the car plunged forward.
"Good-night, little sisters!"
"Good-night, little brothers!"
[Sidenote: How He comes]
"Sleep well, little people.
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