[CHAPTER XXVII.]
MID-WINTER.
"HERE is the first Sunday in December, Mary!" said Tom, as he went to draw the curtains. "We may as well sit in the firelight till the tea comes in."
"Yes, do let us!" said Nancy with a contented sort of sigh, as she nestled up close to her sister and laid her head on her shoulder.
"It will soon be the shortest day," remarked Mary. "I do love the shortest day!"
"Why?" asked Cecil.
"Because I always feel as if 'the summer had begun,'" smiled Mary.
"In mid-winter?" asked Cecil.
"Yes. When the shortest day comes, I say to myself, 'My summer has begun.' You cannot think how, to rejoice in the lengthening days, seems to shorten the winter!"
"I daresay it does," said Tom reflectively.