Nora’s school had been of the punctilious Episcopal order, and she had learned there the pretty custom of decorating the house at Christmas-tide with garlands and crowns of evergreen and holly. She had spent the day in decking out the chimney-piece, and now, seated on a stool under the mantel-shelf, she twisted the last little wreath which was to complete her design. A great still snow-storm was falling without, and seemed to be blocking them in from the world. She bit off the thread with which she had been binding her twigs, held out her garland to admire its effect, and then, “I don’t believe you are stupid, Roger,” she said: “and if I did, I should not much care.” “Is that philosophy, or indifference?” said the young man. “I don’t know that it’s either; it’s because I know you are so good.” “That is what they say about all stupid people.” Nora added another twig to her wreath and bound it up. “I am sure,” she said at last, “that when people are as good as you are, they cannot be stupid. I should like some one to tell me you are stupid. I know, Roger; _I_ know!” The young man began to feel a little uneasy; it was no part of his plan that her good-will should spend itself too soon. “Dear me, Nora, if you think so well of me, I shall find it hard to live up to your expectations. I am afraid I shall disappoint you. I have a little gimcrack to put in your stocking to-night; but I’m rather ashamed of it now.” “A gimcrack more or less is of small account. I have had my stocking hanging up these three years, and everything I possess is a present from you.” Roger frowned; the conversation had taken just such a turn as he had often longed to provoke, but now it was disagreeable to him. “O, come,” he said: “I have done simply my duty to my little girl.” “But, Roger,” said Nora, staring with expanded eyes, “I am not your little girl.” His frown darkened; his heart began to beat. “Don’t talk nonsense!” he said. “But, Roger, it is true. I am no one’s little girl. Do you think I have no memory? Where is my father? Where is my mother?” “Listen to me,” said Roger, sternly. “You must not talk of such things.”