They were coming! They topped the hill; they passed the academy with its white columns and ancient date in gilded figures; they passed the Blodgett house, within which Miss Sarah Blodgett peered from the sidelights of the front entrance, mistrust and amazement in her sharp face; they passed the church with its green shutters and westward-pointing weathercock; they passed the crossroads where Pleasant Street saunters across Maple; they entered upon that long stretch of elm-shaded gravel walk, which, quite unimpaired by other houses, leads to the Wescott gate. Still the four Wescotts by that gate said not one word or made the slightest move toward going to meet their father. Indeed, they were quite too busily engaged in trying to set their mental houses to rights to do anything but stare. And stare they did! Their father was coming up the street, laden with a huge and shining black bag or pack, which he carried most awkwardly by means of bands across one shoulder. By his side walked the strangest person the four Wescotts had ever seen. She was tall, and the queer folds of her black dress gave place above the waist to a velvet bodice of the same color, only laced with gold cord that tied at the throat. Her sleeves were full and white, and their edges of lace fell almost over her dark, long-fingered hands. They could see that her hair was as black and shining as her bodice or as the covering of her great bundle, for the handkerchief of red silk which had once covered it had fallen back and lay on her shoulders. They saw, too, the gold coins, suspended in tiny rings of gold, that hung from her ears, and the string of great red stones around her neck. Then, as she came nearer and they stared more breathlessly than ever, Roger at the coins, John at the necklace, Cynthia and Mary at the gold-laced bodice and peculiar sleeves, they saw that she had soft, dark eyes such as they had never seen before--eyes which, they somehow all at once knew, had looked upon things unfamiliar and far away. At the gate their father recalled them to their senses. “Children, this is our new friend, Mary Christmas,” he said, lifting the latch, and allowing his guest to precede him into the driveway. “Come and speak to her.” They came forward then with the bows and curtsies which had been, as far back as they could remember, the necessary accompaniment to the reception of all visitors; but they were surprised almost to the point of being startled when this dark stranger with the great eyes bent suddenly and kissed the hands which they gave to her, at the same time murmuring unfamiliar words.