T

hus the few days before Christmas passed busily on, while Agnes began to feel less anxiety as to her charge during their parents' absence.

The nearness of her grandmother and aunt were an untold comfort, but her mother had said to her before she left, "Do not run in to them with every little tittle-tattle, but remember there is a nearer Friend always close. Should any great emergency arise, be thankful that He has so placed you that you can ask advice of them."

The whole family, according to the usual custom, were to spend Christmas-day at Mrs. Headley's, next door, to which pleasure the young people looked forward in their different ways.

On Christmas-eve, while John, Hugh, and Alice were making and putting up the ivy and holly wreaths, Agnes and Minnie set forth on their errand of carrying the Christmas parcels to the poor people for whom they had prepared them; and when they came in, wet and cold, the others gathered round to know what they had done, and how the parcels had been received.

"It is bitterly cold to-night," said Agnes, coming forward to the fire; "you will let us get warm first, before we say a word, the wind blows through you."

"You should have let us go," said John. "I knew it was more fit for Hugh and me than for that little scrap of humanity!"

"But Minnie was promised," answered Agnes, "and I am very glad I went—very glad."

"So am I," answered Minnie earnestly.

"Why?" asked Hugh.

"I must tell you another day; to-night I feel as if I could only thank God for all our mercies."

She sat down by the fire and looked into it abstractedly, while Minnie stood near her very soberly too.

"Were they so pleased?" asked Alice.

Agnes looked round on the warm room, with its comfortable curtains, clean wall-paper, tidy carpet, all lighted up with the glow of the log of wood which Alice had put on the fire to welcome her.

"If you could have seen!" she said, "how thankful you would all feel for our blessings."

At six o'clock the next morning the Christmas bells of joy rang out on the still morning air. They woke Alice, and she started up in bed and called to Minnie, who, after sundry groans and sighs, came to herself, and asked, "What is the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, only don't you want to hear the Christmas bells?"

"Not very much," answered Minnie sleepily.

"You are a goose!" said broad-awake Alice. "But all the same, I wish you a happy Christmas."

"So do I," answered Minnie, trying to be polite; "but when I really wake up to-morrow morning I'll say it better."

"Why it is to-morrow morning," laughed Alice.

After breakfast, just as they were going to open a package on which they had ventured many conjectures, a ring at the front door interrupted them.

"Perhaps it's another parcel," said Minnie, running to the window, while Agnes exclaimed:

"Oh, Minnie, don't expect things, pray. I should not like to be counting on presents—it is horrid!"

Minnie looked round astonished. "I didn't know——" she said, confused.

But the ring was quickly explained.

"Please, Master Hugh," said the housemaid, "there's a young gentleman in the hall, and he wants to know if you'll go out for a walk with him?"

"Who is it?" asked Hugh, vexed. "Did he say his name?"

"I'll enquire, Master Hugh."

"It's Master Tom Radnor," she said, returning.

Hugh threw down the string he was untying, and followed the maid into the hall.

"Holloa, Tom!" he said.

"I've nothing to do to-day," said the other; "and you said you'd go for a walk."

"You're remarkably early, or else we're remarkably late."

"Don't you want to go?"

"Oh, yes; but I'm busy just this minute."

"Not done breakfast?" asked Tom, grinning.

"You're wrong there! Look here, Tom, I'll call for you in half an hour, will that do?"

"All right."

So the front door opened and closed, and Hugh came back.

"What did he want?" asked Alice.

"To go for a walk."

"On Christmas-day? How funny."

"Not funny that I know of."

"Did you ask him to?" said Minnie.

"Yes—no—at least he said something about it when I met him yesterday."

"I should have said I couldn't," said Alice decidedly; "but never mind now, Hugh, let's open our things."

They gathered round the table, and soon had forgotten all about Tom in their interest in the presents their mother and father had prepared for them.

A beautiful work-basket for Agnes; a book for John; a new paint-box for Hugh; a desk, fitted-up, for Alice; and a long-shaped box for Minnie, on which was written, "Care—great care—little Minnie."

"What can it be?" exclaimed the child, peeping round it, and enjoying her anticipations.

And then John untied the string and raised the cover, while Minnie's little fingers tenderly lifted some tissue-paper, and disclosed to view a baby-doll of surpassing loveliness.

Agnes and the rest admired and exclaimed to the heart's content of the little mother, and then She took her doll away to show it to the servants.

Just then Hugh discovered that the half hour was nearly over, and started up.

"Are you not coming to church?" asked Alice.

Hugh stopped short for a moment, "Are you?" he asked.

"Yes, we are going with Aunt Phyllis."

"But I can't get out of this, Agnes, and father wouldn't mind?"

"No; he thinks Christmas-day is not like Sunday, and we need not feel bound about going to God's house as we are then; but for my own part I should like to."

"So should I," said Alice.

"Is John going?" asked Hugh, looking crest-fallen and vexed.

"Yes; I don't know that I had intended it though, for I look upon Christmas-day as a blessed holiday, but I've other reasons."

"Then you think I can go with Tom?"

"As far as that is concerned," said John; "but I should hardly think Tom was a nice companion for you."

"Why not?" exclaimed Hugh, turning red.

"There are several things about him that are not satisfactory, and I should not like him for my friend."

"He is not 'my friend' exactly; but that's always the way with you, John, you despise other people."

"I'm sure I don't; but I've always told you. Hugh, that that boy's a humbug."

"How do you know he is?" Hugh answered angrily.

"He never looks you in the face for one thing."

"Nonsense. Did ever you hear such an absurd thing, Agnes, to judge by a fellow's looks?"

"Then he does not go with the good set at school, you can't say he does," pursued John.

"He goes with me, and I should like you to tell me I belong to the bad set."

"You will if you go on with him," John answered quickly; and then he saw Agnes move suddenly and raise her eyes from the table, where they had been fixed during the altercation.

One flash of thought, one glance at his sister, and then John stood still with firmly-closed lips.

Agnes felt deeply thankful, but she said not a word.

"Have you anything more to say?" asked Hugh bitterly, "or have you exhausted all your powers in that last effort?"

John was still silent, but an earnest supplication went up that he might know his Lord's will and do it.

"Eh?" exclaimed Hugh, coming close to him and speaking to him in hot anger.

"I was thinking, Hugh," answered John slowly, "wondering whether I had been unkind in what I said, or right in warning you?"

"Warning me! If you had had a grain of sense in your body, you'd have warned me in private, and not before a pack of girls."

"Yes," answered John, hesitating a little, "I think I ought not—not like that, but it never occurred to me; we got into it before I knew."

"That is a very poor excuse for annoying your brother, and a very cowardly way of getting out of it."

"Cowardly?" said Alice, beneath her breath, to Agnes.

But John answered, "Having acknowledged that I should have told you in private, Hugh, will you forgive me? and may I come up with you and talk it over?"

"No," exclaimed Hugh; "never mention the subject to me again."

And with that he gathered his painting materials together, and walked off, followed by Alice, who was looking grieved enough.

"Oh, Agnes!" said John, turning to her, "I meant to do right, but after all I have broken my promise on Christmas-day!"

"I can't see that you have," answered Agnes gently; "no one can guard against all difficulties."

"But I've quarrelled with him, and offended him more deeply than ever before, when I meant——"

"But I do not see that you quarrelled, John, after all."

"It was far nearer to words than I ever dreamed of going."

Agnes felt very sorrowful, but at last she looked up.

"I wonder what He would have us do?" pointing to the text.

John followed her glance for a moment, then he left the room abruptly, and she heard his footsteps going three at a time up the stairs.

"Hugh," he said, entering their joint room, and closing the door, "I feel more sorry than words can say about this."

His brother was sullenly preparing to go out, and did not turn round. "Then you shouldn't speak to a fellow so," he muttered.

"Hugh," answered John, seriously, "I dare not unsay what I said; that part of it was right. But I was wrong to have exposed your school affairs before anyone else. Can't you let us be friends again on Christmas-day? I would not have had it happen for any money, and I am sorry I have vexed you."

John's tone was so earnest, and Hugh's anger had cooled down, so that he felt he could not do less than say, uncomfortably, "Oh, well, there is no need to make such a fuss; I'm sure I don't want to bother about it, so there, we'll say no more."

John sat on the edge of the bed, looking dejected, and Hugh finished his preparations, and turned to the door. "Why do you mind so much?" he asked suddenly, coming back again; for, after all, he was a kind-hearted boy, and did not like to see his brother annoyed.

"I have made two promises," said John, "and have not succeeded in keeping either."

"Two promises?" echoed Hugh.

"One to Agnes, and one to God," said John in a low tone half to himself.

"There!" exclaimed Hugh, "I'm sorry I was so cross; and—and I'll take to heart what you said about Tom. I'm off now."