"Yes, if he doesn't starve in the meantime. But it seems to me it would be well to ask him here to Christmas dinner, if he is going to be in town."
"I wouldn't."
"Why not?" Theodora asked, in some surprise.
"Christmas is no day to ask strangers here."
"But Mr. Barrett isn't a stranger. Besides, he has been so good to Cicely that I think we owe him a little hospitality."
"You must do as you like, then," Phebe said curtly, and she marched away out of the room, leaving Theodora to knit her brows m anxious perplexity.
However, the next afternoon, the snow was falling heavily, and Phebe's drive was out of the question. At the appointed hour, she glanced out of the window to see Gifford Barrett wading up the path to the front door, and she vanished to her own room.
"Come in," she said, in answer to her mother's knock.
"Mr. Barrett is here, Phebe."
"Is he?"