eyes and was strangely to fail him now. For at the look in Madge's calm
eyes, he drew back, stammering.

"I--I beg your pardon!" said Doctor Ralph.

Later as he stood thoughtfully by his bedroom window, staring queerly at
the wind-beaten elms, he found himself repeating Madge Hildreth's words.
"Ruddy-cheeked and rugged and cheerful!"--indeed--this unforgettable
Christmas eve. Yes--she was right. Had he not often heard his father say
that the Christmas season epitomized all the rugged sympathy and
heartiness and health of the country year! To-night the blazing
Yule-log, his mother's face--how white her hair was growing, thought
Doctor Ralph with a sudden tightening of his throat--all of these
memories had strummed forgotten and finer chords. And darkly foiling the
homely brightness came the picture of rushing, overstrung, bundle-laden
city crowds, of shop-girls white and weary, of store-heaps of cedar and
holly sapped by electric glare. Rush and strain and worry--yes--and a
spirit of grudging! How unlike the Christmas peace of this white,
wind-world outside his window! So Doctor Ralph went to bed with a sigh
and a shrug--to listen while the sleety boughs tapping at his windows
roused ghostly phantoms of his boyhood. Falling asleep, he dreamt that
pretty Madge Hildreth had lightly waved a Christmas wand of crimson
above his head and dispelled his weariness and discontent.




IV

Embers