Part 19 (1/2)

All were satisfied with this arrangement.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, but very cold.

Harry held service in the morning in his church, and of course Mrs.

Hazeley and Flora were present. Everything was in readiness to start away immediately at its close.

”It will not really matter; and we cannot miss seeing our Harry conduct his first Christmas service,” said Flora, positively.

The exercises were simple but impressive; the singing sweet and solemn--the sermon earnest and tender. It seemed to Flora as if she were shut in from everything, and that she really moved among the circ.u.mstances connected with the Saviour's birth. It seemed to her that she was with the wise men who brought gifts, and came to wors.h.i.+p the infant Jesus; and the words of the anthem, ”Glory to G.o.d in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men,” echoed and re-echoed through her whole being. ”Truly,” she thought, ”that peace has entered my soul, and how can I have aught but 'good will to men'?”

Mrs. Hazeley's feelings found expression by the tears rolling down her cheeks under her veil. Flora saw them, but knew they were for joy.

Never had Harry spoken as he spoke that morning. He scarcely recognized himself in the preacher whose impa.s.sioned words were holding spell-bound the people who filled the church, drawing from them alternately tears of sympathy and smiles of joy.

When the service was at an end, and the usual interchange of Christmas wishes over, the young minister joined his mother and sister, who were waiting for him, and, with one upon each arm, directed his steps to the depot, where they boarded the cars for Alec's home.

Flora felt too peaceful and happy to talk, and, in fact, they were all disinclined for conversation, and so the short journey was made in silence. True to his word, Alec was at the station to welcome them, and delighted that they had all come.

He conducted them to a carriage he had in waiting, and helped them in.

”What do you want to ride to Major Joe's for?” asked Harry. ”It is such a short distance.”

”Oh, I want you to ride to-day, so ask no more questions,” was the saucy reply.

”Alec has some new project in his head,” whispered Flora to her mother, who nodded and smiled, as if anything and everything were in order, so far as she was concerned.

Harry asked no more questions, but was busy looking about him, and trying to decide where they were going; if to Major Joe's, why take such a roundabout course? All to no avail, however, and he abandoned the matter to the driver.

There was no snow, to cover with its white, glittering blanket, the rough spots, but the brightness of the sun made amends for this lack by gilding the bare places. It was a green Christmas, but there was a lurking promise of snows and storms yet to come, in the brisk, sharp wind, that drove the withered leaves--reminders of the summer's beauty--along, as Flora remarked, ”like little, old women dressed in brown, and caught in a wind-storm.” Alec noticed, as they drove along, that his brother still glanced about inquiringly, evidently not yet satisfied as to the road to Major Joe's from the station. Alec was amused. It was so long since Harry had been there, he felt sure he could not remember. It was with a view to drawing his attention from this, and thus prevent his asking more questions, that Alec began to talk diligently. He pointed out the different objects of interest along the way, and then would branch off into a series of remarks or conjectures concerning them.

”This now,” he said, pointing to a pretty house they were pa.s.sing, ”is Mrs. Brown's new residence. Isn't it tasteful? Contains all the latest modern improvements--at least, so they say. And here is the homestead of a well-to-do widow. Very benevolent. Quite a good thing for widows.” He was interrupted by Flora's inquiry:

”Why widows especially?”

”Oh, because, you see, all they need is to have just enough to keep them comfortably while they live. They don't care about making improvements, and buying or speculating as a general thing, like----”

”Like what?” asked Harry, drily, as his brother paused.

”Well, like me, for instance,” returned Alec.

”So, I suppose you think there is no necessity for you to be benevolent.”

”It's not but that I should, so much as I cannot afford to be. You see, I am a young man, and I need to be very prudent about the way I invest what money I have, in order to acc.u.mulate a little more.”

”Oh, Alec,” laughed Flora, ”you certainly have acc.u.mulated a pretty good stock of self-complacency, and have cultivated a fine opinion of yourself.”

”Yes,” returned Alec, good-humoredly, touching up his horse with the end of his whip. ”One must blow his own trumpet, if no one else will for him.”

”Bad policy, my boy,” interposed Harry, who seemed for the time being, to feel himself a boy again. ”Bad policy. It is better not to have a trumpet blown at all, than to do it yourself. True worth will always receive its proper recognition.”