Miss Lydia took the pitcher, and Betty put her arm about her mother and led her upstairs, holding her hand and kissing it as she went. She was always lavish with little ways of love, but to-night she felt tenderer than ever--she felt that she should like to take the world in her arms and hold it to her bosom. “Dearest, sweetest,” she said, and her voice was full and tremulous, though still with its crisp brightness of tone. It was as if she caressed with her whole being, with those hidden possibilities of passion which troubled her yet, only as the vibration of strong music, making her joy pensive and her sadness sweet. She felt that she was walking in a pleasant and vivid dream; she was happy, she could not tell why; nor could she tell why she was sorrowful. In Mrs. Ambler's room they found Mammy Riah, awaiting her mistress's return. “Put her to bed, Mammy,” she said; “she is all chilled by the drive,” and she gave her mother over to the old negress, and ran down again to the dining room, where the Governor was standing surrounded by the Christmas litter. “Do you expect to straighten out all these things, daughter?” he asked hopelessly. “Why, there's hardly anything left to do,” was Betty's cheerful assurance. “You just sit down at the table and put the nuts into the toes of those stockings, and I'll count out these print frocks.” The Governor obediently sat down and went to work. “I am moved to offer thanks that we are not as the beasts that have four legs,” he remarked thoughtfully. “I shouldn't care to fill stockings for quadrupeds, Betty.” “Why, you goose, there's only one stocking for each child.” “Ah, but with four feet our expectations might be doubled,” suggested the Governor. “You can't convince me that it isn't a merciful providence, my dear.” When the stockings were filled and the packages neatly tied up and separated, Uncle Shadrach came with a hamper, and Betty went out to the kitchen to prepare for the morning gathering of the field hands and their families. Returning after the work was over, she lingered a moment in the path to the house, looking far across the white country. The snow had ceased, and a single star was shining, through a rift in the scudding clouds, straight overhead. From the northwest the wind blew hard, and the fleecy covering on the ground was fast freezing a foot deep in ice. With a shiver she drew her cloak about her and ran indoors and upstairs to where Virginia lay asleep in the high, white bed. In the great brick fireplace the logs had fallen apart, and she softly pushed them together again as she threw on a knot of resinous pine. The blaze shot up quickly, and blowing out the candle upon the bureau, she undressed by the firelight, crooning gently as she did so in a voice that was lower than the singing flames. With the glow on her bared arms and her hair unbound upon her shoulders, she sat close against the chimney; and while Virginia slept in the tester bed, went dreaming out into the night.