It was a sparkling winter's day in the Christmas week; the girls were home from their respective situations; Harry had come over from a neighboring railway town, where he had obtained permanent and lucrative employment; and the Chepstowes were again united. The clear windows glistened in the sun; the holly sprays poked up their pert berries and bright leaves from all parts of the room, suggestive of the misletoe's delicate beads with its cherished privileges; the mahogany shone in the firelight; the arm-chairs yawned invitingly; the very cat licked its paws with an air; every thing had a _gala_ look, a smile of innate happiness; not a stick in that snug parlor but would have put to flight a legion of blue devils. Paul, notwithstanding his children's degradation, and his own misery, was cosily concocting a glorious bowl of punch; while Barbara, though years had left silvery traces of their passage on her silken curls, had all the matured charms of fat, fair, and forty. And well might both parents feel proud and happy as they gazed on their blooming, joyous children. The girls were not "poor governesses, interesting victims," but conscientious, well-informed women, who had entered on high duties, and were prepared to fulfill them to the best of their endeavors, and were in the meantime enjoying _home_ with twofold pleasure; and Harry, no yellow-kid dawdle waiting for his friends' exertions, had already made a way for himself in the stirring world. But this was not all; the aim of Barbara's late years was achieved--Paul's debts were entirely paid off; by her own long-continued and little suspected savings, she had early laid by a small sum for that purpose; as each child was able to understand her, the story of her trials was related, and each was devoted to the good work. Their economy was added to hers; and gradually the whole interest of her property was reserved also. Money makes money; it accumulates like a snow-ball; interest and compound interest heaped on each other soon form a round sum. A happier family ne'er sat down to a Christmas table than the Chepstowes. They had self-respect and contentment to bless them, what cared they for the world? but little; and therefore, as is usual in these cases, the world chose to think a great deal of them. The only piece of plate on their modest sideboard was a handsome salver, a present from their creditors to P. Chepstowe, Esq., as a mark of respect, of which his wife and daughters were duly proud, and by this salver lay certain visiting tickets, dearer still to Harry. His employer's wife, a rich and high-born woman, visited his family on equal terms; two of his friends were always hovering round Annie and her sister Barbara; he had a shrewd suspicion that it was not for his sake only, that John Gray and Tom Frankland came so frequently to the cottage, no, nor even for the walk, though both declared it was the pleasantest in England.