The boy stood under the archway waving good-bye with his cap. The late afternoon sun shone brightly on the happy face, and illuminated the snow, still clinging to the quaintly carved letters on the arch above, till it seemed they were all golden letters that spelled the name of Herzenruhe. * * * * * This holiday season would have been a sad time for Bethany, had she allowed herself to listen to the voices of Christmas past, but Baxter Trent's example helped her. She turned resolutely away from her memories, saying: "I will be like him. No heart shall ever have the shadow of my sorrow thrown across it." Full of one thought only, to bring some happiness into every life that touched her own, she found herself sharing the delight of every child she saw crowding its face against the great show windows. She anticipated the pleasure that would attend the opening of each bundle carried by every purchaser that jostled against her in the street. It was impossible for her to breathe the general air of festivity at home, and not carry something of the Christmas spirit to the office with her. "Everybody has caught the contagion," she said gayly, coming into the office Saturday afternoon, with sparkling eyes, and snowflakes still clinging to her dark furs. "I saw that old bachelor, Mr. Crookshaw, whom everybody thinks so miserly, going along with a little red cart under his arm, and a tin locomotive bulging out of his pocket." "Jack is missing a great deal," said David, "by not being down-town every day." "O no, indeed!" she exclaimed. "He is nearly wild now with the excitement of the preparations that are going on at home. That reminds me, he has written a special invitation for you to be present at the lighting of his tree Christmas eve. He put it in my muff, so that I could not possibly forget. I am sure you will enjoy watching the children," she added, after she had told him of their various plans, "and I hope you will be sure to come." "Thank you," he responded, warmly. "That is the second invitation I have had this afternoon. Mr. Marion has just been in to ask me to attend the League's devotional meeting to-morrow night. He says it will be especially interesting on account of the season, and insists that 'turn about is fair play.' He went to our Atonement-day services, and he wants me to be present at his Christmas services." "We shall be very glad to have you come," said Bethany. "Dr. Bascom is to lead the meeting instead of any of the young people, who usually take turns. I can not tell how such a meeting might impress an outsider; to me they are very inspiring and helpful." That night, as she sat in her room indulging in a few minutes of meditation before putting out the light, she reviewed her acquaintance with David Herschel. Her conscience condemned her for the little use she had made of her opportunity.