Mother's cheek was pressed softly against the old gray hat. She was
thinking how Stephen would have liked to be here with them; how glad he
would be if he could hear the happy shouts of young people ringing
around the lonely old house again!
They set the tree up in the big parlor, and made a great log fire on the
hearth to give good cheer--for the house was warm as a pocket without
it. They colored and strung popcorn, gilded walnuts, cut silver-paper
stars and chains for the tree, and hung strings of cranberries,
bright-red apples, and oranges between. They trimmed the house from top
to bottom, even twining ground-pine on the stair rail.
Those were the speediest two weeks that Courtland ever spent in his
life. He had thought to remain with the Marshalls perhaps three or four
days, but instead of that he delayed till the very last train that would
get him back to the seminary in time for work, and missed two classes at
that. For he had never had a comrade like Bonnie; and he knew, from the
first day almost, that he had never known a love like the love that
flamed up in his soul for this sweet, strong-spirited girl. The old
house rang with their laughter from morning to night as they chased each
other up-stairs and down, like two children. Hours they spent taking
long tramps through the woods or over the country roads; more hours they
spent reading aloud to each other, or rather, most of the time Bonnie
reading and Courtland devouring her lovely face with his eyes from
behind a sheltering hand, watching every varying expression, noting the
straight, delicate brows, the beautiful eyes filled with holy things as
they lifted now and then in the reading; marveling over the sweetness of
the voice.
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