Of all Kathie's Christmas remembrances—and even Dr. Markham sent her a beautiful gift—there was one so unexpected and so touching that it brought the tears to her eyes. She was running through the hall just before church-time, when the door-bell rang; the Alstons did not consider it necessary that Hannah should always be summoned from her duties to attend the call, so Kathie opened the door.
A stout, country-looking lad, just merging into awkward young-manhood, with a great shock of curly, chestnut-colored hair, and a very wide mouth, stood with a parcel in his hand.
"I want to see Miss Kathie Alston," he said, blushing as red as a peony.
"I am the person," she answered, simply.
He stared in surprise, opening his mouth until there seemed nothing but two rows of white, strong teeth.
"Miss—Kathie—Alston?" in a kind of astonished deliberation.
"Yes."
"I was to give this to you. She," nodding to some imaginary person, "told me to be sure to put it into your hands for fear. She thought you'd like it."
"Who is she?" and Kathie could not forbear smiling.