The idea of this Christmas
reunion had originated with Edith Monroe the preceding spring,
during her tedious convalescence from a bad attack of pneumonia
among strangers in an American city, where she had not been able
to fill her concert engagements, and had more spare time in which
to feel the tug of old ties and the homesick longing for her own
people than she had had for years. As a result, when she
recovered, she wrote to her second brother, James Monroe, who
lived on the homestead; and the consequence was this gathering of
the Monroes under the old roof-tree. Ralph Monroe for once laid
aside the cares of his railroads, and the deceitfulness of his
millions, in Toronto and took the long-promised, long-deferred
trip to the homeland. Malcolm Monroe journeyed from the far
western university of which he was president. Edith came,
flushed with the triumph of her latest and most successful
concert tour. Mrs. Woodburn, who had been Margaret Monroe, came
from the Nova Scotia town where she lived a busy, happy life as
the wife of a rising young lawyer. James, prosperous and hearty,
greeted them warmly at the old homestead whose fertile acres had
well repaid his skillful management.
They were a merry party, casting aside their cares and years, and
harking back to joyous boyhood and girlhood once more. James had
a family of rosy lads and lasses; Margaret brought her two
blue-eyed little girls; Ralph's dark, clever-looking son
accompanied him, and Malcolm brought his, a young man with a
resolute face, in which there was less of boyishness than in his
father's, and the eyes of a keen, perhaps a hard bargainer.
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