“Come right in, folkses,” she called happily. “Do stop capering,” as Doris danced around her. “Merry Christmas, all of you.” Up the long colonial staircase she led the way into the big guest room. Down in the parlor Cousin Beth was playing softly on the old melodeon, “It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old.” The air was filled with scent of pine and hemlock, and provocative odors of things cooking stole up the back stairs. Kit and Billie retreated to a corner with the latter’s book supply. It was hard to realize that this was really Billie, Cousin Roxy’s “Nature Boy” of the summer before. Love and encouragement had seemed to round out his character into a promise of fulfilment in manliness. All of the old self consciousness and shy abstraction had gone. Even the easy comradely manner in which he leaned over the Judge’s arm chair showed the good understanding and sure confidence between the two. “Yes, he does show up real proud,” Cousin Roxy agreed warmly with Mrs. Robbins when they were all downstairs before the glowing fire. “Of course I let him call me Grandma. Pity sakes, that’s little enough to a love starved child. I’m proud of him too and so’s the Judge. We’re going to miss him when he goes away to school, but he’s getting along splendidly. I want him to go where he’ll have plenty of boy companionship. He’s lived alone with the ants and bees and rabbits long enough.” Helen and Doris leaned over Cousin Beth’s shoulders trying the old carols: “Good King Wencelas,” “Carol, Brothers, Carol,” and “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night.” Jean played for them and just before dinner was announced, Doris sang all alone in her soft treble, very earnestly and tenderly, quite as if she saw past the walls of the quiet New England homestead to where “Calm Judea stretches far her silver mantled plains.” Cousin Roxy rocked back and forth softly, her hand shading her eyes as it did in prayer. When it was over, she said briskly, wiping off her spectacles, “Land, I’m not a bit emotional, but that sort of sets my heart strings tingling. Let’s go to dinner, folkses. The Judge takes Betty in, and Jerry takes Beth. Then Elliott can take in his old Cousin Roxy, and I guess Billie can manage all of the girls.” But the girls laughingly went their own way, Doris holding to the Judge’s other arm and Helen to her father’s, while Jean lingered behind a minute to glance about the cheery room. The fire crackled down in the deep old rock hearth. In each of the windows hung a mountain laurel wreath tied with red satin ribbon. Festoons of ground pine and evergreen draped each door and picture. It was all so homelike, Jean thought. Over the mantel hung a motto worked in colored worsteds on perforated silver board. Here abideth peace