"Christmas is over, and it really wasn't half as bad as I thought it was going to be. But before I begin writing about anything else, I must tell you how happy I was to get all your dear home letters. Uncle Henry was so kind about forwarding them as soon as they reached New York, and I had them all on Christmas Eve. Aunt Julia wrote me the box has come, too, but she will have to keep that until I get back the end of next week. How I shall adore every single thing in it!

"I sent mother a few lines the morning I got here, but that was before I had found out how beautiful it all is. It is just like the Southern plantations one reads about in stories, and everything is very interesting. There is even a dear old black mammy, who lives in a cabin, and has asked Beverly and me to come and have waffles some afternoon. All the servants are black, and the butler has lived in the family nearly forty years. Then the neighbors are just the kind one reads of, so kind and hospitable, and always having good times. I think I like Southerners better than New Yorkers; they make me feel much more at home. I have met a good many of them, for we went to a Christmas dance at the Pattersons', on Christmas Eve, and I had a perfectly gorgeous time. The Pattersons are cousins of the Randolphs', and Grace, the girl, is just my age, and awfully nice; but then everybody here is nice, and I am having the very best time that it is possible for a girl to have.

"The riding is the greatest pleasure of all. Beverly and I have been out for a ride every day, and he enjoys it almost as much as I do. They have given me the dearest little chestnut to ride, and it is a great honor, because she belonged to Beverly's sister, who was killed in the San Francisco earthquake, and scarcely any one has ridden her since. She is very gentle, and so friendly that she will take sugar out of my pocket. Beverly says his sister taught her to do that.

"But if I go on chattering like this, I shall never get to Christmas, which was the most interesting of all. The Virginians seem to think a great deal of Christmas, and nearly all the day before we were busy dressing a tree for the little negroes on the plantation. Mrs. Randolph had brought presents from New York for all of them, and for the fathers and mothers as well. Beverly says she has done the same thing every Christmas since her little girl died; it is a sort of memorial, I suppose. We all hung up our stockings, even Mrs. Randolph and the doctor, who is just as nice and jolly as he can be, though Grace Patterson says some people are afraid of him. It was late when we got back from the Pattersons' party on Christmas Eve, but after I was in bed I heard Mrs. Randolph going about softly, filling the stockings, which were all hung outside our doors.

"I was so tired after the party, that I didn't wake till after seven, and then the very first thing I did was to run and look at my stocking. It was stuffed full of good things; oranges, candy, figs and dates, and just as I thought I had reached the bottom, I felt something hard away down in the toe. What do you think it was? You will never guess, so I may as well tell you right away; it was a little velvet box, and inside was a ring, a beautiful gold ring, with two adorable little pearls in it! That was Mrs. Randolph's Christmas present, and the loveliest thing I have ever had in my life. I was so happy when I saw it that I cried; I know it was dreadfully silly, but I couldn't help it. Oh, how I wish I could show it to you this minute, but you will see it when I come home next June, and all my other presents, too, for the ring wasn't the only one. When I came down to breakfast there were more parcels beside my plate; two nice books from Beverly, and a gold bracelet from the doctor. Just think of it, two pieces of jewelry in one day! I am sure I didn't deserve such beautiful things, but when I told them so, and tried to thank them, they only laughed.

"In the morning we went to church, and the Christmas music was lovely. We met the Pattersons at church, and they all came home with us to dinner. Oh, such a dinner! I don't see how any one could possibly ever eat so many things. There were more dishes than I have ever imagined possible for one meal, and every single one was delicious.

"After dinner came the tree for the children, and that was the best fun of all. I quite lost my heart to some of the piccaninnies, and one little chap, as black as coal, was so adorable that I wanted to hug him. The children all had a beautiful time, and screamed with delight over their presents. How I wished you and Mother could have seen Mrs. Randolph going about among them, speaking so pleasantly to every one, and making them all feel at home. After the tree had been stripped they all had ice cream, and I got hold of my little black boy, and made him sit on my lap while I fed him until I don't believe he could have swallowed another mouthful. Then the old butler, who is just like a negro servant in a book, proposed three cheers for Mrs. Randolph, and you should have heard those darkies yell!

"The Pattersons left as soon as the fun was over, and we all went upstairs to our rooms to rest. But I wasn't a bit tired, and was afraid that if I sat down to think I might be homesick, so I thought I would go for a walk. I was just starting when I saw Mrs. Randolph come out from the greenhouse, with her hat on, and her hands full of beautiful roses, and I stopped to ask if she were going for a walk, too, and if I might go with her. She hesitated for a minute, and then said I might come if I liked, but she was afraid I would find it sad; she was going to the cemetery to put flowers on her little girl's grave. She said it quite calmly, but there was such a sad look in her eyes, and I was horribly embarrassed, for I was afraid I ought not to have suggested going with her. But she assured me she would really like to have me, if I didn't mind, so of course I went, and, oh, Aunt Jessie, I am so glad I did. It was all beautiful and sacred—almost too sacred to write about, even to you and Mother. The cemetery was such a lovely, peaceful place, and as it was quite warm and pleasant, we sat down by Barbara Randolph's grave, and her mother talked to me about her. It was the first time she has ever told me much about Barbara, and I was so interested in all she said. I don't think I shall ever be afraid of dying again; Mrs. Randolph spoke so beautifully about it. She says she can never feel that her little girl is far away, and she is quite sure they will be together again some day. I think Barbara must have been an awfully nice girl; every one seems so fond of her. Grace Patterson was her chum, and she can hardly speak of her without crying. As for Beverly, he just can't bear to talk about her at all, and I don't dare ask him a single question. Grace says he was devoted to her, and she adored him. I wish I could see a picture of Barbara, but there are no photographs of her about. Mrs. Randolph wears a little gold locket, and I am sure there is a miniature of Barbara inside, but I have never had the courage to ask her to show it to me. I was just making up my mind to do it yesterday, when we heard footsteps, and there was Beverly himself, bringing more flowers. He didn't know we were there, and looked horribly embarrassed when he saw us. Boys always hate to show their feelings, and I think he would have gone away again without speaking to us, if his mother hadn't called him. She was so pleased to see him, and after the first minute I don't think he really minded. I thought they might like to be alone, so I slipped away as quietly as I could, and on the way home I met the doctor, and he asked me to go for a walk with him. I know you would like Dr. Randolph; he is so clever, and has traveled almost all over the world. He told me such an interesting story about a Christmas he once spent in Jerusalem. It is so pleasant that he met Father at Harvard, and remembers all about him. He says Father was a very handsome boy, and a great favorite with the girls. Doesn't it seem queer to think of Father's going to dances and flirting with girls! He looks so much older than Dr. Randolph, and yet I suppose they must be about the same age.

"Mrs. Randolph and Beverly were quite cheerful when they came home, and I noticed that Beverly was very gentle with his mother all the evening. He is always nice to her, and that is one of the reasons why I like him so much. One of the things that has surprised me most of all in New York, is the way some of the girls and boys speak to their fathers and mothers. I really don't know what Mother would do to me if I were ever to answer her back the way Elsie sometimes answers Aunt Julia, but her mother doesn't seem to mind.

"We had a quiet evening at home, but it was pleasant, for we were all a little tired. Mrs. Randolph and the doctor played cribbage, and Beverly sang; he has a lovely voice, but he won't often sing. Altogether my Christmas was a very happy one, and if I did 'weep a little weep' after I was in bed, it was only natural, considering it was my first Christmas away from you all. Oh, Aunt Jessie, darling, I am having a beautiful visit, but I never forget you, or Father or Mother, a single minute! I love your letters better than anything else, and I am just longing to get my hands on that precious Christmas box. I hope you will all like the presents I sent. Uncle Henry was so kind; he gave me twenty-five dollars to spend for Christmas presents. I never had so much money in my life, but Aunt Julia helped me select the presents, which was a great relief, for I should never have known what to buy without her. Things seem to cost so much more than one expects them to.

"I felt sure you and Mother would want something I had made myself, and I hope you will like the color of the shawl; Mrs. Randolph thought it very pretty. I chose the little daisy pin for Undine, because I liked it so much myself. I am so glad you have all grown so fond of her, and that she is happy, and doesn't worry so much about not remembering.

"Beverly is calling me to go for a ride, so I must stop writing. Heaps of hugs and kisses for everybody from