Molly played, and Thomas expounded scientific farming, to the wonder of
them all. And finally Mr. Gray went to meet the midnight train from New
York at Wallacetown the night before Christmas Eve, and found himself
being squeezed half to pieces by the bear hugs of Austin and the hearty
handshakes of Mr. Stevens.

"Pile right into the sleigh," he managed to say at last when he was
partially released, but still gasping for breath; "we mustn't stand
fooling around here, with the thermometer at twenty below zero, and a
whole houseful waiting to treat you the same way you've treated me.
Austin, seems as if you were bigger than ever, and you've got a different
look, same as Thomas and Molly have, only yours is more different."

"There was more room for improvement in my case," his son laughed back,
throwing his arm around him again. "My, but it's good to see you! Talk
about changes! You look ten years younger, doesn't he, Mr. Stevens? How's
mother? And--and Thomas, and the girls? And--and Peter?"

"Yes, how is _Peter_?" said Mr. Stevens.

"Why, Peter's all right," returned Mr. Gray soberly; "what makes you ask?
That sort is never sick and he's as good and steady a boy as I ever saw."

"I'm so glad to hear it," murmured Mr. Stevens in an interested voice.

"And we had the biggest creamery check this month, Austin," went on his
father, "that we _ever_ had--with just those few cows you sent! Peter
tends them as if they were young girls being dressed up for their
sweethearts. The hens are laying well, too, right through this cold
weather--the poultry house is so clean and warm, they don't seem to know