There was a
healthier glow than terror stirred in their hearts; because of
the vague, great dread without, it may be, they drew closer
together round household fires, were kindlier in the good
old-fashioned way; old friendships were wakened, old times talked
over, fathers and mothers and children planned homely ways to
show the love in their hearts and to welcome in Christmas. Who
knew but it might be the last? Let us be thankful for that happy
Christmas-day. What if it were the last? What if, when another
comes, and another, one voice, the kindest and cheerfullest then,
shall never say "Happy Christmas" to us again? Let us be
thankful for that day the more,--accept it the more as a sign of
that which will surely come.
Holmes, even, in his dreary room and drearier thought, felt the
warmth and expectant stir creeping through the land as the day
drew near. Even in the hospital, the sisters were in a busy
flutter, decking their little chapel with flowers, and preparing
a fete for their patients. The doctor, as he bandaged his broken
arm, hinted at faint rumours in the city of masquerades and
concerts. Even Knowles, who had not visited the hospital for
weeks, relented and came back, moody and grum. He brought Kitts
with him, and started him on talking of how they kept Christmas
in Ohio on his mother's farm; and the poor soul, encouraged by
the silence of two of his auditors, and the intense interest of
Lois in the background, mazed on about Santa-Claus trees and
Virginia reels until the clock struck twelve, and Knowles began
to snore.
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