Aunt Ella embraced Linda and talked to her as a mother might talk to her daughter. Her delight at finding this relative of the husband whom she had loved so well and mourned so sincerely, showed itself in face, and voice, and action. Her hospitality knew no bounds. Linda must stay with her a month at least, so must Sir Stuart and Mdme. Archimbault. It was the holiday season, and they must all feast and be merry over this happy, unexpected return. It was a joyous party that gathered in the dining-room at Aunt Ella's house that evening. She said that such an occasion could not be fitly celebrated with plain cold water, so a battle of choke old port was served to Sir Stuart, and toasts to Mrs. Sawyer and Miss Chessman were drunk from glasses filled with foaming champagne. Then all adjourned to Aunt Ella's room and Uncle Robert's prime cigars were offered to Sir Stuart and Quincy. But Aunt Ella had too much to say to think of her cigarette. For an hour conversation was general; everybody took part in it. The events of the past year, which were of so great interest to all present, were gone over, and when conversation lagged it was because everybody knew everything that everybody else knew. Quincy spent that night at his father's house. The next morning his mother told him that the author had selected Christmas day on which to be received by them at dinner, and that she was making unusual preparations for that event. "I wish I could invite a few friends to meet her that day," said Quincy. "You may invite as many as you choose, Quincy, if you will promise to be here yourself. You have been away from home so much the past year I hardly anticipate the pleasure of your company on that day." "Have no fear, mother," Quincy said. "I wish very much to meet the author that father and you are so greatly pleased with. Of course Aunt Ella is coming?" "Certainly," answered his mother. "I understand that the author has been stopping with her since the reception." "I shall invite five friends," said Quincy, "and you may depend upon me." To his mother's surprise he gave her a slight embrace, a light kiss upon her cheek, and was gone. The sun showed its cheerful face on Christmas morning. The snow that fell a fortnight previous had been washed away by continued heavy rains. A cold wind, biting, but healthful, quickened the pulse and brought roses to the cheeks of holiday pedestrians. The programme for the meals on Christmas day had been arranged by Mrs. Sawyer as follows: Breakfast at nine, dinner at one, and a light supper at six. It had always been the rule in the Sawyer family to exchange Christmas gifts at the breakfast hour. Quincy was present, and his father, mother, and sisters thanked him for the valuable presents that bore his card. Father, mother, and sisters, on their part, had not forgotten Quincy, and the reunited family had the most enjoyable time that they had experienced for a year.