After supper they all gathered for a time in the large general
sitting-room, and careful Leonard went the rounds of the barn and
out-buildings. Mr. Clifford, with considerate kindness, had resolved to
defer all conversation with Amy relating to her bereavement and the
scenes that had ensued. At this holiday-time they would make every effort
within their power to pierce with light and warmth the cold gray clouds
that of late had gathered so heavily over the poor child's life. At the
same time their festivities would be subdued by the memory of her recent
sorrow, and restricted to their immediate family circle. But, instead of
obtrusive kindness, they enveloped her in the home atmosphere, and made
her one of them. The manner in which old Mrs. Clifford kept her near and
retained her hand was a benediction in itself.

Leonard was soon heard stamping the snow from his boots on the back
piazza, and in a few moments he entered, shivering.

"The coldest night of the year," he exclaimed. "Ten below zero, and it
will probably be twelve before morning. It's too bad, Amy, that you have
had such a cold reception."

"The thermometer makes a good foil for your smile," she replied. "Indeed,
I think the mercury rose a little while you were looking at it."

"Oh no," he said, laughing, "even you could not make it rise to-night.
Heigho, Ned! coming to kiss good-night? I say, Ned, tell us what mamma
has for Amy's stocking. What a good joke it is, to be sure I We all had
the impression you were a little girl, you know, and selected our gifts
accordingly. Burt actually bought you a doll. Ha! ha! ha! Maggie had
planned to have you hang up your stocking with the children, and such a
lot of little traps and sweets she has for you!"