“Mamma, dear,” she said softly, “what a happy thing it was for him—­poor sufferer that he was—­to be taken so early to the Father’s house on high where pain and sin and sorrow are unknown!”

“Yes,” returned her mother, furtively wiping away a tear, “and calling to mind the dreadful scenes of the war that followed some years later, and the sore trials that resulted in the Carrington family—­I feel that he was taken away from the evil to come.

“Of the others forming that little company Flora Arnott too died young.  Mary Leslie married and moved away, and I have lost sight of her for many years.  Carrie Howard lived to become a wife and mother, but was called away from earth years ago.  The same words would tell Isabel Carleton’s story.

“Lucy Carrington and I are the only ones left, and she, like myself, has children and grandchildren.  I hear from her now and then, and we meet occasionally when I go North or she pays a visit to the old home at Ashlands.”

“Mrs. Ross,” said Rosie half in assertion, half inquiringly.

“Yes, that is her married name.”

“And Aunt Sophy who lives at Ashlands now, is—­”

“The widow of Lucy’s older brother Harry, and also your Grandma Rose’s sister; as you all know.”

“Mamma,” said Walter, “you didn’t mention Grandma Rose at all in telling your story of that Christmas and New Year’s.  Wasn’t she there?”

“No, my son; my father—­your grandpa—­and I were living alone together at that time.  The next summer we went North, and while there visited at Elmgrove, Mr. Allison’s country seat, which gave papa and Miss Rose an opportunity to become quite well acquainted.

“I had known and loved Miss Rose before, and was very glad when papa told me she had consented to become his wife and my mother.

“They were married in the fall and when we returned to the Oaks she was with us.

“That made my next Christmas and New Year still happier than the last, and when yet another came round my treasures had been increased in number by the advent of a darling little brother.”

“Uncle Horace,” said Walter.  “Mamma, were you very glad when God gave him to you?”

“Indeed I was!” she answered with a smile.  “I had never had a brother or sister and had often been hungry for one.

“And he has always been a dear, loving brother to me,” she went on, “and your Aunt Rose, who came to us while we were in Europe some eight years later, as sweet a sister as any one could desire.”

“But about those holidays, mamma, the first when you had a brother?” persisted Walter; “aren’t you going to tell about them?”

“Yes,” she answered; “it was a particularly enjoyable time, for we had our cousins—­Mildred and Annis Keith—­with us.  Mildred, though, had become Mrs. Landreth, and had her husband and baby boy with her.

“Annis was a dear, lovable little girl just about my own age.  They spent the winter at the Oaks, Annis sharing both my studies and my sports.  We had a Christmas party, our guests remaining through the rest of the week.”