Then he humbly suggested that he might save our fingers at the expense of his own, and he cut holly into suitable sprigs, fetched and carried and nailed devices and twisted wreaths until even Mary was fain to praise his willingness, if not his skill. This was at High Lea, the church work having been done by other hands, and more of them, mostly before we came. While the house decoration was in progress, Mr. Marsden made frequent sly allusions to "green stuff," and brought in many of the expressions Mrs. Jennings was accustomed to use in our hearing at the farm. Mary innocently attacked her cousin on this subject, and said she wondered where he had picked up such odd expressions, whereupon he demurely suggested that she should ask her favourite referee, Miss Anstey. "As if she would know!" replied Mary, contemptuously; and Lawrence rejoined, "Miss Anstey is such an encyclopaedia of knowledge according to you, Mary, that I quite thought she knew everything." Whilst the decorations were in progress, Mrs. Marsden saw how much we three young people were together, yet neither interfered nor frowned upon us. On the contrary, there was that humorous expression to be seen on her face at intervals, and I caught her exchanging looks of a highly significant character with her son. Sometimes I fancied these looks had reference to myself, and then I felt my face grow hot, and wondered if the mother and son could possibly be amusing themselves at my expense. I was angry at the thought almost as soon as it was conceived, and ashamed that it could have been allowed to enter my mind. Before Christmas Day came, however, I felt almost ready to run away a second time from Mr. Marsden. It was so hard to be constantly in this man's company, knowing as I did from his own lips how he once cared for me. And, alas! Knowing that each day he was taking more complete possession of my thoughts and affections. How was this state of things to end? Would he now be just the pleasant friend of another brief holiday, and then go his way and let me go mine, wherever this might lead? I think I would rather have died than let any human friend look into my heart then, and I kept up bravely whilst in company with others, though no more miserable coward than myself ever moistened a pillow with nightly tears, or dreaded the coming trial of a new day when alone. On Christmas morning I felt better than I had hoped to do. Every one was so kind. I had prepared some little gift for each of the family, the guests, and servants. They were simple matters, the work of my own hands; and I was truly thankful that no person in that home of wealth humiliated me by the bestowal of anything costly. A little purse, a letter-rack, a paperknife, and an ink-stand were given me by the three Baxendells and Lawrence Marsden.