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 children are imposing on you.”

Dorian assured her that the pleasure was his, and after the mail carrier had departed, he thought it wise to explain further.

“A very strange thing has happened,” said Dorian.  “As I was going after the tree for the children, I met the young lady who is staying at Mrs. Carlston.”

“Miss Davis.”

“Yes; she’s a neighbor of mine.  We grew up together as boy and girl.  Through some trouble, she left home, and—­in fact, I have been searching for her.  I am going to try to get her to go home to her parents.  She—­she could help us with our tree dressing this evening.”

“We’d like to have both our neighbors visit with us,” said Mrs. Hickson; “but the snow is rather deep for them.”

By the middle of the afternoon Dorian cleared a path to the neighboring house, and then went stamping on to the porch.  Carlia opened the door and gave him a smiling welcome.  She had dressed up a bit, he could see, and he was pleased with the thought that it was for him.  Dorian delivered the invitation to the two women.  Carlia would go immediately to help, and Mrs. Carlston would come later.  Carlia was greeted by the children as a real addition to their company.

“Did you bring an extra of stockings?” asked Mrs. Hickson of her.  “An up-to-date Santa Claus is going to visit us tonight, I am sure.”  She glanced toward Dorian, who was busy with the children and the tree.

That was a Christmas Eve long to be remembered by all those present in that house amid solitude of snow, of mountain, and of pine forests.  The tree, under the magic touches of Dorian and Carlia grew to be a thing of beauty, in the eyes of the children.  The home-made candles and decorations were pronounced to be as good as the “boughten ones.”  And the candy—­what a miracle worker this sober-laughing, ruddy-haired young fellow was!