NO sooner had the little party alighted, than the cottage door flew open, and a crowd of familiar faces met their astonished gaze.
There was the old major, wrinkled and lame, leaning on his cane, but smiling as if he had forgotten that there was any "rheumatiz" in the world.
There was the bright-faced little Jem of long ago, now grown into a stout maiden, and looking as sober and matter-of-fact as ever.
And motherly little Ruth was there, with her face wreathed in smiles.
There was good Mrs. Benson, busy and bustling with the weight of some unusual responsibility.
Such a royal welcome as our friends received. Tongues were kept busy with stories of the generosity of the dear old Saint Nicholas, and wishes for the new year.
"What a pretty house!" exclaimed Flora, as the hum of voices was lessening.
"I am glad you like it, sister mine," returned Alec who was at her side, "because, you know, it belongs to me."
"To you? Then you have been industrious in all these years. Are you going to live here all alone?"
"Yes, you are right there, Flora," Alec answered, totally ignoring her question. "I have worked hard, and saved too. But, there! I am blowing my own trumpet again, in spite of Hal's lecture!" And he glanced roguishly at his brother.