84 



AND FLO]YERS 



know's I've told you abont it, but I heard 

 he was goin* to take his sister's child. Her 

 mother died not long ago. I guess it's her, 

 an' she's run away 'cross-lots. You — you 

 don't care if I ask her to come in, do you 



"\Miy should I care asked the deacon. 

 "I don't s'pose she'll hurt me. if she does 

 come from Graham's." 



For years and years there had been a 

 bitter enmity between Deacon Moore and 

 his next neighbor, John Graham. They 

 had been staunch friends in boyhood, but 

 they seemed to have forgotten all about 



"JOYOUS CAROLS ROSE TO HEAVEN" 



that. They had met each other at church, 

 and in neighborhood affairs, week after 

 week, all through these years, without ex- 

 changing a word. Living within sight of 

 each other, they were farther apart than 

 those who live at the world's ends — neigh- 

 bors, and 3'et strangers. What had been 

 the cause of the trouble between them few 

 in the neighborhood could tell, at this late 

 day. If they had ever known what it 

 was, they had forgotten long ago. In- 

 deed, Mrs. Moore often wondered if her 

 l^.usband knew why he and his neighbor 



were at enmity- with each other. Both 

 Vere kind-hearted. Both had the good- 

 will and respect of their neighbors, and it 

 was greatly regretted by their friends that 

 the old grudge could not be put out of 

 sight forever, but it seemed as if the two 

 men had grown into such a settled habit 

 of hating each other that it was useless to 

 try to overcome it now. 



Mrs. Moore went to the door. ^'Be 

 careful, dear, or you'll fall an' hurt your- 

 self,'' she called to the child on the fence. 

 "'Don't you want to come in an' get 

 warm ?'' 



^T'll come in, btit I ain't cold." was the 

 answer, and the little girl gave a great 

 jump into the snow, and ran to the house, 

 half out of breath with the exertion called 

 forth by her fence-rail performance. "T 

 came over to call, you know," she added, 

 trying to look very matronly and dignified. 

 'Tt's Christmas day, and I wanted to go 

 somewhere. Uncle John said may be you 

 wouldn't care to have me come, but I 

 thought I'd find ottt." 



•'Bless your dear little heart !" cried 

 Mrs. Moore, folding the child in her arms 

 and kissing her rosy cheeks. 'T'm so glad 

 vou/ve come I I hope youTl keep right 

 on comin'. If there's anything in the 

 vrorld I like, it's little girls, sich as you," 

 with another kiss that perhaps was meant 

 more for the little girl in the grave upon 

 the hill than the one to whom it was given. 



The child looked at the deacon in a 

 doubtful way for a moment. Evidently 

 she wanted to say something to him, but 

 was at a loss as to how to begin. 



^^Merry Christmas," she said, going up 

 to him with a roguish smile on her face. 

 "Yo-u know what they do to little girls 

 when they say that, don't you ?'' 



'T don't know's I do," answered the 

 deacon. 



"AVliy — they kiss 'em." she cried, and 

 held ujD her sweet face so temptingly that 

 the deacon could not refuse. 



''I love you," she said, as she leaned 

 against his knee, and touched his wrinkled 

 face with her chubby finger. "I'll come 



