The quiet service in the warm, well-lighted church was very soothing and refreshing. As Olivia knelt beside her husband, her heart swelled with thankfulness for countless blessings. "I have not deserved to be so happy," she said to herself, as she thought of her two treasures. Martha had breakfast ready for them on their return, and Olivia hurried upstairs to take off her hat. She was just stepping into the dining-room, when Marcus caught hold of her, and blindfolded her playfully. "No, you are not to look yet!" he said, teasingly. "There is a surprise in store for you." But as he took his hands from her eyes, she uttered a little cry of ecstasy. On the breakfast-table, propped up with books, was a small framed picture, the very cornfield, with the brown baby asleep under the hedge, and the old terrier guarding it, that she had so admired. A card, with Mr. Gaythorne's compliments and Christmas greeting, was beside it. "What do you think of your friend now, Livy?" But Olivia seemed to have no answer ready, her lips trembled, and the tears gathered in her bright eyes. Marcus, who was almost as pleased as she was, patted her on the shoulder kindly, and bade her pour out the coffee, but for a long time Olivia could not be induced to go on with her breakfast. "If only I could take it to show Aunt Madge!" she said at last. But Marcus negatived this at once; the picture was heavy, and the damp, cold air might injure it. That was a happy morning to Olivia, as she played with Dot, and then sang her to sleep. When Marcus came home he told her to wrap up as warmly as possible. "The damp quite gets into one's bones," he said; and even Olivia owned that it was disagreeably cold. Aunt Madge received them with her usual kind welcome, but she looked at her niece with a queer expression. "Livy," she said, "I feel as though I were living in the days of Aladdin and his wonderful lamp. I had to pinch myself this morning, to be sure I was not dreaming. What do you think our dear old magician has done now?" And as she pointed to the table beside her, Olivia saw the picture of the ruined church, and the old shepherd in his tattered smock. "'Tis a love token, I reckon," repeated Aunt Madge, but her voice was not quite steady. As for Olivia, the tears were fairly running down her face. "Dear Aunt Madge, I do love him for this. What do you think, he has sent me the picture of the cornfield that I described to you, and such a hamper of good things!" "Yes, and a brace of pheasants have come to me. Livy, do you know what that picture means to me? I have just been feasting my eyes on it all the morning. I mean to get an easel and stand it at the foot of my couch, with that Indian scarf of mine just draped over it; won't it cheer me up on one of my bad days when I can't read or work, and even thinking is too hard for my poor head? ''Tis a love token, I reckon,' I shall just say that to myself."