It was in the middle of the month, one forenoon when the cold had moderated so that one could sit on the porch in the sunshine without a wrap and when the southerly breeze held a faint, heart-stirring promise of Spring――a promise speedily broken,――that Winthrop came back to the house from an after-breakfast walk over the rutted clay road and found Holly removing the greenery from the parlor walls and mantel. She had spread a sheet in the middle of the room and was tossing the dried and crackling holly and the gummy pine plumes onto it in a heap. As Winthrop hung up his hat and looked in upon her she was standing on a chair and, somewhat red of face, was striving to reach the bunch of green leaves and red berries above the half-length portrait of her father. “You’d better let me do that,” suggested Winthrop, as he joined her. “No,” answered Holly, “I’m――――going to――――get it――――There!” Down came the greenery with a shower of dried leaves and berries, and down jumped Holly with a triumphant laugh. “Please move the chair over there,” she directed. Winthrop obeyed, and started to step up onto it, but Holly objected. “No, no, no,” she cried, anxiously. “I’m going to do it myself. It makes me feel about a foot high and terribly helpless to have folks reach things down for me.” Winthrop smiled and held out his hand while she climbed up. “There,” said Holly. “Now I’m going to reach that if I――have to――stretch myself――out of――shape!” It was a long reach, but she finally accomplished it, laid hold of one of the stalks and gave a tug. The tug achieved the desired result, but it also threw Holly off her balance. To save herself she made a wild clutch at Winthrop’s shoulder, and as the chair tipped over she found herself against his breast, his arms about her and her feet dangling impotently in air. Perhaps he held her there an instant longer than was absolutely necessary, and in that instant perhaps his heart beat a little faster than usual, his arms held her a little tighter than before, and his eyes darkened with some emotion not altogether anxiety for her safety. Then he placed her very gently on her feet and released her. “You see,” he began with elaborate unconcern, “I told you――――” Then he caught sight of her face and stopped. It was very white, and in the fleeting glimpse he had of her eyes they seemed vast and dark and terrified. “It startled you!” he said, anxiously. She stood motionless for a moment, her head bent, her arms hanging straight. Then she turned and walked slowly toward the door. “Yes,” she said, in a low voice; “it――――I feel――――faint.” [Illustration]