All were satisfied with this arrangement.
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, but very cold.
Harry held service in the morning in his church, and of course Mrs. Hazeley and Flora were present. Everything was in readiness to start away immediately at its close.
"It will not really matter; and we cannot miss seeing our Harry conduct his first Christmas service," said Flora, positively.
The exercises were simple but impressive; the singing sweet and solemn—the sermon earnest and tender. It seemed to Flora as if she were shut in from everything, and that she really moved among the circumstances connected with the Saviour's birth. It seemed to her that she was with the wise men who brought gifts, and came to worship the infant Jesus; and the words of the anthem, "Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men," echoed and re-echoed through her whole being. "Truly," she thought, "that peace has entered my soul, and how can I have aught but 'good will to men'?"
Mrs. Hazeley's feelings found expression by the tears rolling down her cheeks under her veil. Flora saw them, but knew they were for joy.
Never had Harry spoken as he spoke that morning. He scarcely recognized himself in the preacher whose impassioned words were holding spell-bound the people who filled the church, drawing from them alternately tears of sympathy and smiles of joy.
When the service was at an end, and the usual interchange of Christmas wishes over, the young minister joined his mother and sister, who were waiting for him, and, with one upon each arm, directed his steps to the depot, where they boarded the cars for Alec's home.
Flora felt too peaceful and happy to talk, and, in fact, they were all disinclined for conversation, and so the short journey was made in silence. True to his word, Alec was at the station to welcome them, and delighted that they had all come.
He conducted them to a carriage he had in waiting, and helped them in.