"O, Dorian--"

"Yes."

He came toward her, but she with averted face, slipped toward the
kitchen door.

"I can't go home, I can't go with you--really, I can't," she said. "You
go back home and tell the folks I'm all right now, won't you, please."

"We'll talk about that after a while. I must get that tree now, or those
kiddies will think I am a rank impostor." Dorian looked at his watch.
"Why, it's getting on toward noon. So long, for the present."

Dorian found and cut a fairly good tree. The children were at the window
when he appeared, and great was their joy when they saw him carry it to
the woodshed and make a stand for it, then bring it in to them. The mail
carrier was about ready to continue his journey, and he asked Dorian if
he was also ready. But Dorian had no reason for going on further; he had
many reasons for desiring to remain. And here was the Christmas tree,
not dressed, nor the candy made. How could he disappoint these children?

"I wonder," he said to the mother, "if it would be asking too much to
let me stay here until tomorrow. I'm in no hurry, and I would like to
help the children with the tree, as I promised. I've been hindered some
this morning, and--"

"Stay," shouted the children who had heard this. "Stay, do stay."

"You are more than welcome," replied Mrs. Hickson; "but I fear that the