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ously rattling the luminous checkerboard windows and the Christ¬ 
mas wreaths, tormenting the cheerful flame in the old iron lantern 
and whisking away the snow from the shivering elms, whistling 
eerily down the doctor’s chimney to startle a strange little cripple 
by the doctor’s fire, who, queerly enough, would not be startled. 
For to Roger there had never been a wind so Christmasy, or a 
fire so bright and warm, and his solemn black eyes glowed! Never 
a wealth of holly and barberry and alder-berries so crimson as 
that which rimmed the snug old house in Christmas flame! Never 
such evergreen wreaths, for, tucked up here in this very chair by 
Aunt Ellen, he had made them all himself of boughs from the 
evergreen forest! And never surely such enticing odors as had 
floated out for the last two days from old Annie’s pots and pans 
as she baked and roasted and boiled and stewed in endless prepa¬ 
ration for Christmas day and the Christmas eve party, scolding 
away betimes in indignant whispers at Old Asher, who, by reason 
of a chuckling air of mystery, was in perpetual disgrace. 
Wonderful days indeed for Roger, with Sister Madge’s smooth, 
pale cheeks catching the flaring scarlet of the holly, and Sister 
Madge’s slim and willing fingers so busy hanging boughs that 
she had forgotten to sigh; with motherly Aunt Ellen so warmly 
intent upon Roger’s comfort and plans for the masquerade that 
many a mysterious and significant occurrence slipped safely by 
her kindly eyes; and with the excited doctor’s 
busy sleigh jingling so hysterically about on 
secret errands and his kindly face so full of 
boyish mystery that Roger, with the key to all 
this Christmas intrigue locked safely in his 
heart, had whispered a shy little warning in the 
culprit’s attentive ear. 
And presently—Roger caught his breath and 
furtively eyed the grandfather’s clock, ticking 
boastfully through a welter of holly—presently 
it would be time for the doctor’s masquerade, 
and later, when the clock struck twelve and the 
guests unmasked, that great surprise which the 
doctor had planned so carefully by telegram! 
But now from the kitchen came the sound of 
the doctor singing; 
“Come bring with a noise, 
My merry, merry boys, 
The Christmas log to the firing!” 
and heart-burnings!” and then, in accordance with a cherished 
custom of his father’s he followed the words with a wish for the 
good of his household. 
“And Ah,” said old Asher, as he struck the log, “Ah wish foh 
de good ub de horses and cows and all d’ udder live tings, an’,” 
with a terrific shuckle of mystery, “Ah wish foh tings aplenty dis 
night!” 
“And I,” said old Annie, with a terrible look at her imprudent 
spouse as she took the poker, “I wish for the harvest—and wit 
for them that lack it!” 
But Roger had the poker now, his black eyes starry. 
“I—I wish for more kind hearts like Aunt Ellen’s and the 
doctor's,” he burst forth with a strangled sob as the sparks 
showered gold, “for more — more sisters like Sister Madge—” 
his voice quivered and broke—“and for—for all boys who can¬ 
not walk and run — ” but Sister Madge’s arm was already around 
his shoulders and the old doctor was patting his arm — wherefore 
he smiled bravely up at them through glistening tears. 
“Now, now, now, little lad!” reminded the doctor, “it’s Christ¬ 
mas eve!” Whereupon he drew a chair to the fire and began a 
wonderful Christmas tale about St. Boniface and Thunder Oak 
and the first Christmas tree. A wonderful old doctor this — 
reflected Roger wonderingly. He knew so many different things 
Roger clapped his thin little hands with a cry 
of delight, for old Asher and the doctor 
were bringing in the Yule-log to light it 
presently with the charred remains of the 
Christmas log of a year ago. To-morrow an¬ 
other Yule-log would crackle and blaze and 
shower on the hearth, for the old doctor 
moulded a custom to suit his fancy. And here 
was Annie splendidly aproned in white, follow¬ 
ing them in, and Aunt Ellen in a wonderful old 
brown-gold brocade disinterred for the doctor’s 
party from a lavender-sweet cedar chest in the 
garret. And Sister Madge ! — Roger stared — 
radiant in old-fashioned crimson satin and holly, 
colorful foils indeed for her night-black hair 
.and eyes! As for the doctor himself, Roger 
now began to realize that with his powdered 
wig, his satin breeches and gaily-flowered waist¬ 
coat — to say nothing of silken hose and silver 
buckles — he was by far the most gorgeous 
figure of them all! 
“I,” said the doctor presently, striking the 
burning Yule-log until the golden sparks flew 
iOUt, “I charge thee, log, to burn out old wrongs 
The grass lands to the south were thickly blanketed in white and the stately pines and 
cedars were marvelously draped and coiffed in snow 
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