He thought he never had seen anything quite so lovely as Bonnie in that fuzzy little woolen cap, with the sunshine of her hair straying out and the fine glow in her beautiful face.  He knew he had never heard music half so sweet as Bonnie’s laugh as it rang through the woods when she saw a squirrel sitting on a high limb scolding at their intrusion.  He never thought of Gila once the whole afternoon, nor even brought to mind his lost ideals of womanhood.

They found a tree just to their liking.  Bonnie had it all picked out weeks beforehand, but she did not tell him so, and he thought he had discovered it for himself.  They cut masses of laurel, and ground-pine, and strung them on twine.  They dragged the tree and greens home through the snow, laughing and struggling with their fragrant burden, getting wonderfully well acquainted, so that at the very door-step they had to lay down their greens and have a snow-fight, with Father and Mother Marshall standing delightedly at the kitchen window, watching them.  Mother’s cheek was pressed softly against the old gray hat.  She was thinking how Stephen would have liked to be here with them; how glad he would be if he could hear the happy shouts of young people ringing around the lonely old house again!

They set the tree up in the big parlor, and made a great log fire on the hearth to give good cheer—­for the house was warm as a pocket without it.  They colored and strung popcorn, gilded walnuts, cut silver-paper stars and chains for the tree, and hung strings of cranberries, bright-red apples, and oranges between.  They trimmed the house from top to bottom, even twining ground-pine on the stair rail.

Those were the speediest two weeks that Courtland ever spent in his life.  He had thought to remain with the Marshalls perhaps three or four days, but instead of that he delayed till the very last train that would get him back to the seminary in time for work, and missed two classes at that.  For he had never had a comrade like Bonnie; and he knew, from the first day almost, that he had never known a love like the love that flamed up in his soul for this sweet, strong-spirited girl.  The old house rang with their laughter from morning to night as they chased each other up-stairs and down, like two children.  Hours they spent taking long tramps through the woods or over the country roads; more hours they spent reading aloud to each other, or rather, most of the time Bonnie reading and Courtland devouring her lovely face with his eyes from behind a sheltering hand, watching every varying expression, noting the straight, delicate brows, the beautiful eyes filled with holy things as they lifted now and then in the reading; marveling over the sweetness of the voice.