Whereupon Mr. Worthington introduced a comely matron, named Esther Morris, whose husband had obtained work in Little Cray, but could not find an empty cottage in which to locate his family. There were husband, wife, and two white-headed, sunburnt urchins, for whom it was guaranteed that they were "very bidable, knew manners, would not disturb the passon, and a look was enough to snub them." Esther had been a servant at Little Cray Rectory before Mr. Worthington's time. It would be like coming home again if she were to keep house for the curate. Her household goods would furnish the part occupied by her family; those left by the rector, with Arthur's books and many pretty fancy articles made by the nimble fingers of his young sisters, would render the other portion all that he could desire. The bargain was easily concluded. Mr. Glyn was to give house-room, firing, and lights to the Morris family, and Esther was to keep house and generally "do for" the curate, with occasional help, for which he was to pay. This agreement had been in force for six months, and now Christmas was coming, and with it Arthur Glyn hoped for the society of his younger sister, Gertrude. Hilda was passing the winter at Cannes with a delicate pupil, but Gertrude had sent a number of loving letters to tell him how she was reckoning on spending at least a month with dear old Arthur at Little Cray. And the solitary young man, who had been living for others ever since he was able to think and act, was counting the hours until that happy one should arrive which would bring the sweet young face of his favourite to cheer his fireside. But as he paced up and down the study on that dismal morning, on the shortest day, and one of the dreariest in all the year, his heart might well echo what bolder grumblers put into words, "It is not a bit like Christmas." That open letter upon the study table replied, though mutely, "And I bring a message which will take the taste out of your Christmas dinner." The letter was from Gertrude, and told a love tale—a very happy one. The lassie had won the affections of a good man, the uncle of her little pupils. He had wealth, position, high character, and must have sought the little damsel for herself alone, since all her dowry consisted in her fair young face, true heart, and well-cultivated mind. Better still, every one was agreeable, and so the girl's letter was full of sunshine and the shy happiness which wants to tell all its tale to the dear absent brother, but can hardly put it into words.