Home, in its dull uniformity and stillness, was a contrast after the stir and freshness and prettiness of life in the Dallases's house. It struck Esther rather painfully. The room where she and her father took their supper was pleasant and homely indeed; a bright fire burned on the hearth, or in the grate, rather, and a bright lamp shone on the table; Barker had brought in the tea urn, and the business of preparing tea for her father was one that Esther always liked. But, nevertheless, the place approached too nearly a picture of still life. The urn hissed and bubbled, a comfortable sound; and now and then there was a falling coal or a jet of gas flame in the fire; but I think these things perhaps made the stillness more intense and more noticeable. The colonel sat on his sofa, breaking dry toast into his tea and thoughtfully swallowing it; he said nothing, unless to demand another cup; and Esther, though she had a healthy young appetite, could not quite stay the mental longing with the material supply. Besides, she was pondering something curiously. 'Papa,' she said at last, 'are you busy? May I ask you something?' 'Yes, my dear. What is it?' 'Papa, what is Christmas?' The colonel looked up. 'What is Christmas?' he repeated. 'It is nothing, Esther; nothing at all. A name--nothing more.' 'Then, why do people think so much of Christmas?' 'They do not. Sensible people do not think anything of it. Christmas is nothing to me.' 'But, papa, why then does anybody make much of it? Mrs. Dallas has her house all dressed up with greens.' 'You had better keep away from Mrs. Dallas's.' 'But it looks so pretty, papa! Is there any harm in it?' 'Harm in what?' 'Dressing the house so? It is all hemlock wreaths, and cedar branches, and bright red berries here and there; and Pitt has put them up so beautifully! You can't think how pretty it all is. Is there any harm in that, papa?' 'Decidedly; in my judgment.' 'Why do they do it then, papa?' 'My dear, they have a foolish fancy that it is the time when Christ was born; and so in Romish times a special Popish mass was said on that day; and from that the twenty-fifth of December got its present name--Christ-mass; that is what it is.' 'Then He was not born the twenty-fifth of December?' 'No, nor in December at all. Nothing is plainer than that spring was the time of our Lord's coming into the world. The shepherds were watching their flocks by night; that could not have been in the depth of winter; it must have been in the spring.' 'Then why don't they have Christmas in springtime?' 'Don't ask _me_, my dear; I don't know. The thing began in the ages of ignorance, I suppose; and as all it means now is a time of feasting and jollity, the dead of winter will do as well as another time. But it is a Popish observance, my child; it is a Popish observance.' 'There's no harm in it, papa, is there? if it means only feasting and jollity, as you say.'