There were many who knew Dr. Arundel, not only as the clever and successful doctor, but as the friend who in dark hours of anxiety truly sympathized, while reminding them of One above, ruling and watching, waiting to be gracious, and to bless those who would call upon Him in their sorrow. There were nine children—Walter and Nellie by the first wife, and seven since, the two youngest of whom, a baby boy of two years, and a little pet girl of four, were happily at tea in the nursery on this cold day in January. Very soon the three sisters came down looking, as Ada had said, warm and tidy and fresh, or if they were not warm, they soon would be. "Now tell us all your doings," exclaimed Ada. "How did you leave Christina?" asked Mrs. Arundel. "She was very well, and very happy; and we really had so much to do, and were so busy over the Christmas tree, that the time flew by in an extraordinary way," answered Nellie. "Did they have a Christmas tree?" said Ada rather regretfully. "Yes, last night; just a very simple one. We did so want you, Ada! But papa had said so distinctly that you were needed at home, that Christina did not like to write." Ada's colour came fast, and she went on with her tatting in silence, her eyes filling in spite of all her efforts when she remembered the delights she had missed, and pictured to herself how intensely she would have enjoyed it all. She knew, however, that it had not been "her turn" to go, and acquiesced in its being right; but still "how she would have enjoyed it!" Nellie knew this well enough, and had offered to come home and send Ada instead; but Christina Arbuthnot, at whose house at Hampstead they had been staying, understood Dr. and Mrs. Arundel's wise decision, and would not allow Nellie to write and make the proposal. "And did it go off well?" asked Mrs. Arundel. "Oh, lovely!" said Isabel. "It was so pretty; and such a lot of candles; you could not have counted them, mamma, if you had tried ever so, not when they were all alight." Ada stealthily brushed away her gathered tears, and said, without looking up, "Did they have presents on the tree?" "Yes, lots," replied Netta emphatically; "little toys, bags of sweetmeats, pincushions, boxes, and fruit." "Who made the things?" said Ada. "We did, a great many," answered Isabel; "but of course the toys were bought. We made little bags of net, and the sweetmeats looked so pretty, showing through them." "Then we made some net into the shape of sailor boys, and pushed pink and white lozenges into their legs and arms, and, oh, they did look so funny hanging by cottons dangling about!" Netta and Isabel laughed gleefully, and Ada smiled too at the thought. "The little ones did stare so," said Nellie, "when they were introduced into the room; and the baby gave quite a crow of delight." "What did you give the baby?" asked Ada. "A soft dog," answered Netta, "that would squeak." "And what did Alfy have?" "A little horse and cart for his very own."