fire and in the brief flash of light which marked the consumption of the telegram he saw a familiar-looking package on the library table in the shadow cast by his big chair. He carried it to the now fainter glow of the hearth and saw that it was addressed to him in Deane's trim hand. He opened it eagerly, to see what form her remembrance had taken.

It was the fox-skin, returned. Vague, trouble-eyed, he read the inclosed note.

CONTENTS

[Pg 27]

Dear Dick:—

Dear Dick

I am sending you back your present. Father insists, because you secured it on Sunday.

It hurts me, Dick, dreadfully, but you know how he feels about such things.

It is the loveliest present I ever received—and it makes me want to cry, sometimes, when I think of your doing[Pg 27] such things for me and thinking about me as you do. I AM crying, now, Dick.

[Pg 27]

Though I can not have it, your present will always be mine—I can never forget that you were good enough to wish me to have it.

And will you accept my very best wishes that your Christmas may be a very merry one.

Deane.

He sank back into the chair again, sickened.... "That your Christmas may be a very merry one."

Susan, first down in the morning, raised the curtains to the brilliant Christmas morning, and turned to find him sitting in the chilled room before the dead fire. Shocked by the haggard face, she hurried to him.

"Dick, are you sick?" As she sank by the side of his chair her hand brushed against the rich fur which lay across his knees, and she understood. She placed a pitying arm about his shoulders.

"I feared it, Dick—I feared it! You know how he is—her father. I'll never speak to him again as long as—" She burst into tears.

Gently he withdrew her arm and took her hand in his.

"It's all right, Sue, it's—all—right."

 Prev. P 19/180 next