“And the symbolism of this stunning make-up?” queried Ralph after a while, lazily admiring.

The girl’s eyes flashed.

“To-night, if you please,” she said, “I am the spirit of the old-fashioned Christmas who dwells in the holly heart of the evergreen wood.  A country Christmas, ruddy-cheeked and cheerful and rugged like the winter holly—­simple and old-fashioned and hallowed with memories like this bright soft crimson gown!”

Well, she had been a queer, fanciful youngster too, Doctor Ralph remembered, always passionately aquiver with a wild sylvan poetry and over-fond of book-lore like her father.  Mischievously glancing at a spray of mistletoe above the girl’s dark head, he stepped forward with the careless gallantry that had won him many a kindly glance from pretty eyes and was strangely to fail him now.  For at the look in Madge’s calm eyes, he drew back, stammering.

“I—­I beg your pardon!” said Doctor Ralph.

Later as he stood thoughtfully by his bedroom window, staring queerly at the wind-beaten elms, he found himself repeating Madge Hildreth’s words.  “Ruddy-cheeked and rugged and cheerful!”—­indeed—­this unforgettable Christmas eve.  Yes—­she was right.  Had he not often heard his father say that the Christmas season epitomized all the rugged sympathy and heartiness and health of the country year!  To-night the blazing Yule-log, his mother’s face—­how white her hair was growing, thought Doctor Ralph with a sudden tightening of his throat—­all of these memories had strummed forgotten and finer chords.  And darkly foiling the homely brightness came the picture of rushing, overstrung, bundle-laden city crowds, of shop-girls white and weary, of store-heaps of cedar and holly sapped by electric glare.  Rush and strain and worry—­yes—­and a spirit of grudging!  How unlike the Christmas peace of this white, wind-world outside his window!  So Doctor Ralph went to bed with a sigh and a shrug—­to listen while the sleety boughs tapping at his windows roused ghostly phantoms of his boyhood.  Falling asleep, he dreamt that pretty Madge Hildreth had lightly waved a Christmas wand of crimson above his head and dispelled his weariness and discontent.

IV

Embers

And in the morning—­there was the royal glitter of a Christmas ice-storm to bring boyhood memories crowding again, boughs sheathed in crystal armor and the old barn roof aglaze with ice.  Yes—­Ralph thrilled—­and there were the Christmas bunches of oats on the fences and trees and the roof of the barn—­how well he remembered!  For the old Doctor loved this Christmas custom too and never forgot the Christmas birds.  And to-day—­why of course—­there would be double allowances of food for the cattle and horses, for old Toby the cat and Rover the dog.  Hadn’t Ralph once performed this cherished Christmas task himself!