O, happiest of happy days! Ring out, sweet bells! A tenderer music is in your notes than they have ever yet been charged with! It is twilight, and all the elderly people are in the parlour in Buttercup-square. The children are in another room, engaged in mysterious preparation. 'I think we shall have snow soon,' says Mr. Merrywhistle. 'I'm glad of it,' says Robert Truefit. 'Something seems to me wanting in Christmas, when there is no snow. When it snows, the atmosphere between heaven and earth is bridged by the purity of the happy time.' Mrs. Silver is pleased by the remark; the firelight's soft glow is on her face. Charley enters, and bends over her chair. 'My dear mother,' he whispers. She knows in an instant by the tremor in his voice what he is about to say. She draws him to her, so that the firelight falls on his face as well as on hers. 'Is it about Ruth?' she asks softly. 'Yes, yes,' he answers in a tone of eager wonder. 'How did you know?' She smiles sweetly on him. 'I have known it for a long time, Charley. Have you spoken to her?' 'Yes; and this is the happiest day I have ever known. O, mother, she loves me! She gave me permission to ask you for her.' Mrs. Silver calls her husband to her side. 'Charley has come to ask for Ruth, my dear.' 'I am glad of it. Where is Ruth?' 'I will bring her,' says Charley, trembling with happiness. 'Did I not tell you, my dear?' Mrs. Silver asks of her husband. 'It is a happy Christmas, indeed,' he answers. Ruth is glad that it is dark when she enters the room. Mrs. Silver folds the girl in her arms. 'My darling child! And this wonderful news is really true?' 'Yes, my dearest mother,' kissing Mrs. Silver's neck, and crying. 'What are you people conspiring together about?' asks Mr. Merrywhistle, from the window. 'Come here, and join the conspirators,' says Mrs. Silver. 'Our plots will fail, without your assistance and consent.' Mr. Merrywhistle joins the party by the fire, and Robert Truefit steals quietly out of the room. 'It is eighteen years this Christmas,' says Mrs. Silver, 'since Ruth was given to us. She has been a comfort and a blessing to us, and will continue to be, I am sure.' Ruth sinks on her knees, and hides her face in Mrs. Silver's lap. This true woman lays her hand on Ruth's head, and continues: 'It is time that Ruth should know who is her real benefactor.' 'Nay, my dear madam,' expostulates Mr. Merrywhistle, blushing like a girl.