especially in the winter. Dorian soon discovered that this man was not
a rough mountaineer, but a man of culture, trying to prolong his
earth-life by the aid of mountain air, laden with the aroma of the
pines. The wife went freely in and out of the room, the children also;
but somewhat to Dorian's surprise, no Carlia appeared. If she were there
in the house, she surely would be helping with the meal which seemed to
be in the way of preparation.

The storm continued all afternoon. There could be no thought of moving
on that day. And indeed, it was pleasant sitting thus by the blazing log
in the fireplace and listening, for the most part, to the intelligent
talk of the host. The evening meal was served early, and the two guests
ate with the family in the dining room. Still no Carlia.

When the driver went out to feed his horses and to smoke his pipe, and
Mr. Hickson had retired, the children, having overcome some of their
timidity, turned their attention to Dorian. The girl, the oldest, with
dark hair and rosy cheeks, reminded him of another girl just then in his
thoughts. The two small boys were chubby and light haired, after the
mother. When Dorian managed to get the children close to him, they
reminded him that Christmas was only one day distant. Did he live near
by? Was he going home for Christmas? What was Santa Claus going to bring
him?

Dorian warmed to their sociability and their clatter. He learned from
them that their Christmas this year would likely be somewhat of a
failure. Daddy was sick. There was no Christmas tree, and they doubted
Santa Claus' ability to find his way up in the mountains in the storm.
This was the first winter they had been here. Always they had been in
town during the holidays, where it was easy for Santa to reach them; but