At four o'clock Major Verney, who had been restrained from dashing over to Brierwood hours before only by the necessity of soothing the ruffled feelings of his irate mother after her long wait for a belated sleigh on the porch of the Cotesville church, blustered in with the aggrieved old lady upon his arm. "We've come to supper," announced the Major. "No, Dick," as the Colonel rose, "sit down. I know all about it, and to-night you're all going back to Fernlands with me to celebrate the betrothal of these two youngsters." "It has been a day of mysteries," the Colonel said; "but will someone please tell me what Uncle Noah was doing over at Fernlands this morning when he was needed here?" A silence fell over the little group. The subject was one whose delicacy forbade the ghost of a blunder. It was the Major who at last drew his old friend into the deep window recess where but the night before he had watched Uncle Noah pursuing the elusive Job, and told him the story of the faithful old negro's Christmas Eve. The Colonel listened intently, the snowy landscape outside growing blurred and misty as the record of the old man's devotion gradually unfolded. Before the Major had finished the Colonel's hand had crept to the bell at his side, and, as the darky's shuffling footsteps echoed along the corridor, he turned again and stared with unseeing eyes at the outline of the old barn. Dick shifted the log and a crimson glow irradiated the old library, making a halo of soft fire about the figure of the old darky as he paused before his master. "Uncle Noah," said the Colonel brokenly, "I--" but his voice failed him, and he wrung the old man's hand in silence. The Major bent and whispered a few swift words to the startled darky and a great light illumined the brown face. "Doan yoh go foh to thank me, Massa Dick," he crooned, patting the Colonel's hand with reverent devotion; "I ain't wuth it. All I needs, sah, is jus' a good kick for disobeyin' orders. 'Spects I doan understan' it all, but I does know, sah, dat de lady wid de gray eyes whut's at Major Verney's is--is a good fairy, sah. An', Colonel, de Christmas supper am ready." Joyously they filed out, Dick lingering in the firelight for a word with Ruth. Grandmother Verney, in high good humor, went out on the Colonel's arm, the grievance of the morning's belated sleigh quite forgotten in the genial warmth of the Fairfax hospitality. "And what, Uncle Noah," asked the Colonel of the old darky as usual, "have we to-night for supper?" "Well, sah," beamed Uncle Noah, "we has ham an' turkey, an' cranberry sauce an' celery, an' baked apples an' mince pie an' fruitcake an'--an'--laws-a-massy, Massa, I'se too kerflusterated to ricomember any mo'." "We'll have them all!" cried the Colonel. A terrific gobbling arose beneath the dining-room window, and the Major rose and stared out in astonishment. "Merciful goodness, Dick," he demanded, "what is that horrible racket?'