"I have!" said young Derry Willard's father, quite simply. "He's a good boy! Not only clever, I mean, but good! Never yet have I known him to wish for anything that wasn't the _best_!" "They're too young," said my father. "Youth," said Derry Willard's father, "is the one defect I know of that is incontestably remedial." "How can they possibly know their own minds?" demanded my father. "No person," said Derry Willard's father, "knows his own mind until he's ready to die. But the sooner he knows his own heart the sooner he's ready to begin to live." My father stirred in his chair. He lit a cigar. It went out. He lit it again. It went out again. He jerked his shoulders. He looked nervous. He talked about things that nobody was talking about at all. "The young rascal dropped a hundred-dollar bill--when he was here before!" he said. He said it as tho it was something very wicked. Young Derry Willard's father seemed perfectly cheerful. "Did he really?" he said. "It's a wonder the crow didn't eat it!" snapped my father. "But even the crow wouldn't eat it, eh?" said Derry Willard's father. Quite suddenly he began to laugh again. He looked at my mother. He stopped laughing. His voice was very gentle. "Don't be--proud," he said. "Don't ever be proud." He threw out his hand as tho he was asking something. "What difference does anything make--in the whole world," he said, "except just young love--and old friendship?" "Oh, pshaw," said father. "Oh, pshaw!" Rosalee came and stood in the door. She looked only at mother. She had on a red coat. And a red hat. And red mittens. "Derry Willard wants to see the Christmas-tree garden," she said. "May I go?" Derry Willard stood just behind her. He had on his fur coat. He looked very hard at father. When he spoke he spoke only to father. "Is it all right?" he said. "May _I_ go?" My father looked up. And then he looked down. He looked at Derry Willard's father. He threw out his hands as tho there was no place left to look. A little smile crept into one corner of his mouth. He tried to bite it. He couldn't. "Oh--_pshaw_!" he said. Carol and I went out to play. We thought we'd like to see the Christmas-tree garden too. The snow was almost as deep as our heads. All the evergreen trees were weighed down with snow. Their branches dragged on the ground. It was like walking through white plumes. We found mother's Christmas-tree garden. We found Rosalee and young Derry Willard standing right in the middle of it. It was all caves and castles! It was like a whole magic little city all made out of white plumes! The sun came out and shone on it! Blue sky opened overhead! Everything crackled! It was more beautiful even than the Christmas tree in the parlor. They didn't hear us. Rosalee gave a funny little cry. It was like a sob. Only happy. "I love _Christmas_!" she said. "I love _you_!" said Derry Willard. He snatched her in his arms and kissed her.