  At his gate in the street wall lined with snow-bowed lilacs and mulberries, Ebenezer Rule waited in the dark for his two friends to come back. He had found Kate Kerr in his kitchen methodically making a jar of Christmas cookies. ("You've got to eat, if it is Christmas," she had defended herself in a whisper.) And to her stupefaction he had dispatched her to Mary Chavah's with her entire Christmas baking in a basket. "I don't believe they've got near enough for all the folks I see going," he explained it. While he went within doors he had left the hobbyhorse in the snow, close to the wall; and he came back there to wait. The street had emptied. By now every one had gone to ... It came to Ebenezer that the night had not always been so unconscious of his presence. The one long ago, for example, when he had slept beneath this wall and dreamed that he had a kingdom; those other nights, when he had wandered abroad with his star glass. Then the night used to be something else. It had seemed to meet him, to admit him. Now he knew, and for a long time had Then this vast egoism had heard itself expressed in the mention of Bruce's baby—the third generation. But by the great sorcery wherewith Nature has protected herself, this mammoth sense of self, when it extends unto the ... As in the cheer and stir within the house where that night were gathered his townsfolk, his neighbours, his "hands." He had thought that their way of meeting him, if he chose to go among them, would matter nothing. Abruptly now he saw that it would matter more than he could bear. They were in there at Mary's, the rooms full of little families, getting along as best they could, taking pride in their children, looking ahead, looking ahead—and they would not know that he understood. He could not have defined offhand what it was that he understood. But it had, it seemed, Gradually he let himself face what it was that he was wanting to do. And when he faced that, he left the hobbyhorse where it was under the wall and went into the street. He took his place among the externals of the Winter night, himself unconscious of them. The night, with all its content, a thing of explicable fellowships, lay waiting patiently for those of its children who knew its face. In the dark and under the snow the very elements of earth and life were obscured, as in some clear wash correcting too strong values. He moved along the village, and now his dominant consciousness was the same consciousness in which that little village lived. But he knew it only as the impulse that urged him on toward Jenny's house. If he went to Jenny's, if he signified so that he wished not to be cut off from her and "What else?" he asked himself. Mechanically he looked up and saw the heavens crowded with bright watchers. In that high field one star, brighter than the others, hung over the little town. He found himself trying to see the stars as they had looked to him years ago, when they and the night had seemed to mean something else.... "What else?" he asked himself. The time did not seem momentous. It was only very quiet. Nothing new was there, nothing different. It had always been so. The night lay in a sovereign consciousness of being more than just itself. "Do you think "What else?" Ebenezer asked himself. He did not face this yet. But in that hour which seemed pure essence, with no attenuating sound or touch, he kept on up the hill toward Jenny's house. Mary Chavah left ajar the door from the child's room to the room where, in the dark, the tree stood. He had wanted the door to be ajar "so the things I think about can go back and forth," he had explained. In the dining room she wrapped herself in the gray shawl and threw up the two windows. New air swept in, cleansing, replacing, prevailing. Her guests had left her early, as is the way in Old Trail Town. Then she had had her first moments with the child alone. He had done the things that she had not thought of In the clean inrush of the air she was aware of a faint fragrance, coming to her once and again. She looked down at her garden, lying wrapped in white and veiled with black, like some secret being. Three elements were slowly fashioning it, while the fourth, a soft fire within her, answered them. The fragrance made it seem as if the turn of the year were very near, as if its prophecy, evident once in the October violets in her garden, were come again. But when she moved, she knew that the fragrance came from within the room, from Ellen Bourne's Christmas rose, blossoming on the table.... Above, her eye fell on the picture that Jenny had brought to her on that day when she had all but emptied the house, as if in readiness. Almost she understood now the passionate expectation in that face, not unlike the expectation of those who in her dream had kept saying "You." "THE THREE MEN STEPPED INTO THE LAMPLIGHT" "Has the boy gone to bed?" Abel asked without preface. "Yes," Mary answered, "he has. I'm sorry." "Never mind," Simeon whispered, "you can give him these in the morning." Mary, her shawl half hiding her face, stooped to take what the three lifted. "They ain't presents, you know," Abel assured her positively. "They're just—well, just to let him know." Mary set the strange assortment on the floor of the dining room—the things that were to be nothing in themselves, only just "to let him know." "Thank you for him," she said gently. "And thank you for me," she added. Ebenezer fumbled for a moment at his beaver hat, and took it off. Then the other two did so to their firm-fixed caps. And with an impulse that came from no one could tell whom, the three spoke—the first time hesitatingly, the next time together and confidently. "Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas," they said. Mary Chavah lifted her hand. "Merry Christmas!" she cried. The following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan books by the same author, and new fiction. THE OTHER BOOKS OF MISS GALE Mothers to Men Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.50 net; by mail, $1.62 The author is singularly successful in detaching herself from all the wear and tear of modern life and has produced a book filled with sweetness, beautiful in ideas, charming in characterizations, highly contemplative, and evidencing a philosophy of life all her own. "One of the most widely read of our writers of short fiction."—The Bookman. Friendship Village Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 "As charming as an April day, all showers and sunshine, and sometimes both together, so that the delighted reader hardly knows whether laughter or tears are fittest."—The New York Times. The Loves of Pelleas and Etarre Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 "It contains the sort of message that seems to set the world right for even the most depressed, and can be depended upon to sweeten every moment spent over it."—San Francisco Chronicle. Friendship Village Love Stories Decorated cloth, gilt top, 12mo, $1.50 Miss Gale's pleasant and highly individual outlook upon life has never been revealed to better advantage than in these charming stories of the heart affairs of the young people of Friendship Village. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW MACMILLAN FICTION A Man's World By ALBERT EDWARDS Cloth, 12mo, $1.25 net; postpaid, $1.36 "A striking book that should attract wide attention."—New York Tribune. "There never has been a book like 'A Man's World.' ... A novelist of skill and power.... His greatest gift is his power of creating the illusion of reality.... Vividness and conviction unite in the wonderful portrait of Nina.... There never has been such a character in American fiction before.... Nina will be one of the famous twentieth century heroines."—Brooklyn Eagle. "It is a great book, full of the real things of life.... Zola might have written such a book had he lived in New York and not in Paris. Yet, it is doubtful if he could have told a better tale in a better way, for Nina and Ann are just as true to life as Nana and Ninon."—Chicago Record-Herald. "The book is far from ordinary and its philosophy is extraordinary."—New York Times Book Review. "A new type of human document—written in all sincerity and honesty."—New York Herald. My Love and I By MARTIN REDFIELD Cloth, 12mo, $1.35 net; postpaid, $1.47 Even the publishers do not know who the author of this remarkable book is. Its pages tell with powerful reality the struggle of a heart against the subtler problems of love and a solution not usually found in fiction. It is not an ordinary love story; it is, on the contrary, the intimate confession of a man's life. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW MACMILLAN FICTION—Continued The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne By KATHLEEN NORRIS Author of "Mother" Decorated cloth, 12mo, illustrated, $1.25 net; postpaid, $1.38 When it is rumored about in Santa Paloma that Mrs. Burgoyne, a widow and heiress to many millions, has bought an old-fashioned and somewhat run-down estate and intends to make her home in the little California town, food for gossip at all the bridge clubs is furnished for more than one meeting. To live well in Santa Paloma involves heavy expenditures for all sorts of social functions and many a family feels the strain which, however, they would not admit for worlds. The society clique think that everything will be run on even a more gorgeous scale with Mrs. Burgoyne's millions in the game, but they reckon without the possessor of these millions, as the successive events of the story show in a highly entertaining fashion. London Lavender By E. V. LUCAS Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.35 net; postpaid, $1.47 We meet again several of the fine characters with whom Mr. Lucas has already made us acquainted in his other novels as well as others equally interesting and entertaining. The intimate sketches of various phases of London life—visits to the Derby, Zoo, the National Gallery—are delightfully chronicled and woven into a novel that is a most charming entertainment. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW MACMILLAN FICTION—Continued The Drifting Diamond By LINCOLN COLCORD With Frontispiece in Colors by Anton Fischer Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.25 net The strange effects which the possession of a gem of marvelous beauty and great value has upon several sharply differentiated characters is the thread with which this dramatic tale of events is woven. The combination of the mystical, the imaginative and the realistic makes very unusual reading. The diamond has the power of making its owner love it not for what it means in money, but for itself; it also has in it a lurking devil which portends evil happenings. The series of incidents which these qualities in the gem bring about, taken with the love story, which runs through it all, comprise a novel which holds the reader's attention from the very first adventure to the final outcome. A NEW NOVEL By JAMES LANE ALLEN The Heroine in Bronze Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.35 net In "The Heroine in Bronze" Mr. Allen has written with exquisite felicity of thought and expression a novel that is unique and powerful. The story of a young man,—a writer,—the women he loves, and the great novel he writes, is the design threading a background which reveals Mr. Allen's profound understanding of life and his high spirituality. "The Heroine in Bronze" is the most vital contribution to American literature in recent years. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY A BEAUTIFUL EDITION OF A BEAUTIFUL STORY The Christmas Edition of Kathleen Norris's Mother Decorated cloth, 12mo, illustrations, $1.25; by mail, $1.36 "A little book that can be finished in an hour, but the sweet thoughts will remain in the mind long after the book has been set aside.... Before I had covered ten pages I realized that I had something worth its weight in gold. What theme could be more interesting to the ordinary reader than 'Mother,' especially when it is a panegyric on maternal devotion? The author was fortunate in her selection and still happier in her treatment of it, for if there is anything that appeals, it is a true loyal discussion of mother and mother-love. In modern fiction we have too little of the chastening and purifying presence of real motherhood. Few books have the power of recalling worthy thoughts with the force and with the good effect possessed by this little book."—Catholic Columbian. A NEW EDITION OF A MASTERPIECE The Christmas Edition of Jack London's The Call of the Wild Decorated cloth, 12mo, profusely illustrated in color, $1.50 net; by mail, $1.63 To all readers of Jack London and particularly to those who love his masterpiece, this new edition of "The Call of the Wild" will mean much. Some of the previous issues of this great book were thought to be beautiful, but none of them seems so now in comparison with the latest one, the make-up of which is distinguished by a number of features. In the first place there are many full-page plates reproduced in color from paintings done by Mr. Bransom. More than this, the first two pages of each chapter are printed in colors and decorated with head pieces and drawings, while every other two pages carry black and white half tones in the text, also the work of Mr. Bransom. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Transcriber's Notes
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