It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,--for I have
waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in "happen,"
that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all be together
on Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of hickory just beginning
to burn with a glow that promised to grow more fiery till long past
midnight, which would have needed no apology in a loggers' camp,--not so
much as the religion of which a lady (in a city which shall be nameless)
said, "If you must have a religion, this one will do nicely."
There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people
come together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough to
permit the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested that we
read something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to enjoy her own
thoughts, said, "Do." And finally it came about that the Fire Tender,
without more resistance to the urging than was becoming, went to his
library, and returned with a manuscript, from which he read the story of