The sunlight fell softly through Annette’s window and across the reading desk as Dr. Barrows began the afternoon service in the chapel on the day before Christmas. The air was fragrant with the odor of cedar and pine, and against the dark oak wainscoting the holly berries shone warm and bright, as he read: “The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, and the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary.”

Caro sat with her hand clasped in her mother’s, the happiness of Christmas shining in her face; across the aisle was Marjorie with Charlie and Alice.

Just as the president began to read, the door opened and Thompson swiftly and noiselessly wheeled his master to a place at one side of the pulpit, and withdrew. Caro thought Walter must be lonely there by himself, so after a moment’s hesitation, with a smile she withdrew her hand from her mother’s and stole softly up to the front seat close to the invalid.

Miss Elizabeth saw her from the back of the chapel where she sat, and tears came to her eyes. She had not wanted her brother to come, and now here was this child taking the place that should have been hers.

When her grandfather read his text Caro looked up at Walter and smiled; it seemed meant for them she thought.

“To give light to them that sit in darkness.”

It is to be doubted if the president ever preached a better sermon, and yet it was only a simple little talk that the children could understand, about the Light-bringer whose love could penetrate the darkest clouds of sin or sorrow, and whose followers must in their turn become light-bearers.

Caro listened, looking up at the Good Shepherd, who again seemed to smile on her. But after they had sung, “It came upon the midnight clear”—and the benediction had been pronounced, the merry side of Christmas became uppermost. There was Charlie exclaiming, “Walter old fellow I am so glad to see you!” and shaking hands warmly, and Alice and Mrs. Holland with quieter greetings. Marjorie and Tom of course joined Caro, and the president came down and added one more to the group around Walter.

At the door Miss Elizabeth waited, unable to escape altogether the friendly greetings, trying not to be impatient, while near her stood Thompson with a beaming face. This was something like living he thought.

There is something about Christmas eve which makes it different from all other evenings. There is a thrill of expectancy in the air that no one can quite escape, even though his head is grey. Caro and Marjorie skipped down the stone walk in the frosty air, hand in hand, brimful of happiness; Charlie and Alice were beside Walter, and Dr. Barrows who walked with Miss Elizabeth thought his little granddaughter was right when she said this was going to be the best Christmas that ever happened.

“Remember,” said Walter, as they were separating, “that I depend on you to-morrow to make my party a success. It is to be as much like old times as possible.”

“We’ll be on hand and do our best,” said Charlie. “Poor fellow! what a change from four years ago,” he added to his sister.

“And yet I can’t quite pity him. It must be because he is so brave,” Alice answered.

“And Bess, you will wear your prettiest gown, won’t you?” Walter had said coaxingly.

“You know I don’t care for such things any more,” Miss Elizabeth urged.

“But you must. I want you to look like a queen,” he insisted, and so when the Barrows arrived next evening they found their hostess in creamy satin and costly lace, with diamonds on her breast and in her dark hair. At sight of her Caro clasped her hands and cried, “Oh Miss Elizabeth you are perfectly beautiful!”

Her admiration was so evidently genuine that the lady could not help being pleased, and she stooped and kissed the rosy cheek.

“And how do you think we came?” asked Marjorie, dancing around till the blue bows on her flaxen braids danced too.

“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you,” cried Caro, running to Walter’s side, “We came through the gate,—Charlie opened it, the gate in the orchard. We shan’t have to climb the fence any more.”

The invitations read “To meet Miss Caro Holland” and Caro in her fluffy white dress with a spray of holly on her shoulders stood beside Miss Elizabeth and Walter and helped receive the guests. The spacious house was all thrown open, brilliantly lighted and beautiful in its Christmas decorations, for neither trouble nor expense had been considered.

It was first of all a children’s party as every Christmas party should be, but there were almost as many grown people asked besides, to enjoy the children’s pleasure. Aunt Charlotte was there in her black velvet gown, and Mrs. Rice in her wedding dress,—everybody in fact looked their best.

Miss Elizabeth hardly knew herself with flowers and music and happy faces all about her, she almost forgot the pain at her heart, and her brother’s contented smile paid her for all her struggle.

The tree which was in the library was a most beautiful sight when the lights were turned down in the other rooms and the doors thrown open. The floor appeared to be covered with snow, and the tree was all in white and silver, blazing with candles.

After it had been sufficiently admired, Santa Claus came on the scene with a generous pack from which he distributed the most interesting white parcels tied with red ribbons. One of these which had on it “For Trolley, in care of Caro,” contained the prettiest sort of a collar on which was a silver plate with his name.

Supper was served on small tables decorated in holly and red candles, and when this was over the children danced and played around the tree, while the older people strolled about the house or sat and talked.

“Have you had a good time Caro?” asked Walter, catching her hand as she danced by.

“Indeed I have,” was her answer, “and I’m so much obliged for everything, especially Trolley’s collar.”

“I hope he will like it. I owe a great deal to Trolley.”

“Why do you?” she asked.

“I doubt if you ever would have come to see me if he had not put it into your head.”“And then we shouldn’t have had the party, should we? Here comes grandpa,” she added. “Have you had a good time grandpa?”

“This has been a happy Christmas, Walter,” the president said sitting down beside him.

“It has been to me. And I had not expected to have another happy one,” Walter replied.

“What did Santa Claus bring you, grandpa?” Caro asked.

“Just what I most wanted,” and Dr. Barrows smiled at Walter. “I can’t tell you how much I thank you; I had come home rather discouraged.”

“Please tell me what it is,” begged his granddaughter.

“Only a piece of paper, Caro,” said Walter.

“One that will help the seminary out of its difficulties,” added the president.

“Do you mean money? That isn’t interesting,” laughed Caro. “I’ll tell you what I think,” she continued, shaking her finger at Walter, “I think you are a candle, a big one! Hasn’t he brought us a great lot of cheer, grandpa?”

“He has indeed, my darling.”

The young man’s face flushed. “Whatever I have done has brought me the most pleasure. I seem now not to mind as I did at first having to give everything up. I can even hear Charlie talk about the university, without thinking of my spoiled plans. I only want now to get what I can out of the present.” Then after a moment’s silence, he said with a smile, “I am not afraid of the dark any more.”

“Did you try a candle?” Caro asked.

“Yes;” Walter answered, and Dr. Barrows understood. On that young life with its dark shadow, the light of love had shone, and a little candle had been the beginning of it.

So the Christmas party came to an end, and the guests went happily home through the snow.