CHRISTMAS 197 
her slender throat. I loved this style best, but 
I could never believe that anything could be 
prettier than Jane’s white shoulders. 
The table was loaded, as Christmas tables 
should be, and, as I asked God’s blessing on it 
and us, the thought came that the answer had 
preceded the request and that we were blessed 
in unusual degree. 
After dinner the rugs in the great room were 
rolled up, and the young folks danced to Laura’s 
music, which could inspire unwilling feet. But 
there were none such that night. Tom and Kate 
led off in the newest and most fantastic waltz, 
others followed, and Polly and I were the only 
spectators. An hour of this, and then we gath- 
ered around the hearth to hear Polly read « The 
Christmas Carol.” No one reads like Polly. 
Her low, soft voice seems never to know fatigue, 
but runs on like a musical brook. When the read- 
ing was over, a hush of satisfied enjoyment had 
taken possession of us all. It was not broken 
when Miss Jessie turned to the piano and sang 
that glorious hymn, “Lead, Kindly Light.” 
Jack was close beside her, his blue eyes shining 
with an appreciation of which any woman might 
be proud, and his baritone in perfect harmony 
with her rich contralto. The young ladies took 
the higher part, Frank added his tenor, and even 
Phil and I leaned heavily on Jarvis’s deep bass. 
My effort was of short duration; a lump 
gathered in my throat that caused me to turn 
