Carlia could not resist the spirit of cheer.  She smiled with the older people and laughed with the children.  How good it was to laugh again, she thought.  When the tree was fully ablaze, all, with the exception of Mr. Hickson joined hands and danced around it.  Then they had to taste of the various and doubtful makings of candies, and ate a bread-pan of snow-white popcorn sprinkled with melted butter.  Then Mr. Hickson told some stories, and his wife in a clear, sweet voice led the children in some Christmas songs.  Oh, it was a real Christmas Eve, made doubly joyful by the simple helpfulness and kindness of all who took part.

At the close of the evening, Dorian escorted Mrs. Carlston and Carlia back to their house, and the older woman graciously retired, leaving the parlor and the glowing log to the young people.

They sat in the big armchairs facing the grate.

“We’ve had a real nice Christmas Eve, after all,” said he.

“Yes.”

“Our Christmas Eves at home are usually quiet.  I’m the only kid there, and I don’t make much noise.  Frequently, just mother and Uncle Zed and I made up the company; and then when we could get Uncle Zed to talking about Jesus, and explain who He was, and tell his story before He came to this earth as the Babe of Bethlehem, there was a real Christmas spirit present.  Yes; I believe you were with us on one of these occasions.”

“Yes, I was.”

Dorian adjusted the log in the grate.  “Carlia, when shall we go home?” he asked.

“How can I go home?”

“A very simple matter.  We ride on the stage to the railroad, and then—­”

“O!  I do not mean that.  How can I face my folks, and everybody?”

“Of course, people will be inquisitive, and there will be a lot of speculation; but never mind that.  Your father and mother will be mighty glad to get you back home, and I am sure your father will see to it that you—­that you’ll have no more cause to run away from home.”

“What—­what?”

“Why, he’ll see that you do not have so much work—­man’s work, to do.  Yes, regular downright drudgery it was.  Why, I hardly blame you for running away, that is, taking a brief vacation.”  He went on talking, she looking silently into the fire.  “But now,” he said finally, “you have had a good rest, and you are ready to go home.”

She sat rigidly looking at the glow in the grate.  He kept on talking cheerfully, optimistically, as if he wished to prevent the gloom of night to overwhelm them.  Then, presently, the girl seemed to shake herself free from some benumbing influence, as she turned to him and said: 

“Dorian, why, really why have you gone to all this trouble to find me?”

“Why, we all wanted to know what had become of you.  Your father is a changed man because of your disappearance, and your mother is nearly broken hearted.”

“Yes, I suppose so; but is that all?”