But the sun was a long way off, and its brilliancy made scant impression on the intense cold. Thus it was he noticed, as he came in sight of home, that, despite the icy atmosphere, the cabin door was ajar. It moved uncertainly, yet no wind stirred.
“Thar’s somebody ahint the door ez hev seen me a-comin’ an’ air waitin’ ter ketch me ‘Chris’mus Gift,’” he argued, astutely.
To forestall this he took a devious path through the brush, sprang suddenly upon the porch, thrust in his arm, and clutched the unwary party ambushed behind the door.
“Chris’mus Gift!” he shouted, as he burst into the room.
But it was Delia waiting for him, blushing and embarrassed, and seeming nearer tears than laughter. And his mother was chuckling in enjoyment of the situation.
“Now, whyn’t ye let Dely ketch you-uns Chris’mus Gift like she counted on doin’, stiddier ketchin’ her? She hain’t got nuthin’ ter gin yer fur Chris’mus Gift but herself.”
Hilary knew her presence here and the enterprise of “catching him Christmas Gift” was another overture at reconciliation, but when he said, “Waal, I’ll thank ye kindly, Dely,” she still looked at him in silence, with a timorous eye and a quivering lip.
“But, law!” exclaimed Mrs. Knox, still laughing, “I needn’t set my heart on dancin’ at the weddin’. Dely ain’t no ways ter be trusted. She hev done like a Injun-giver afore now. Mebbe she’ll take herself away from ye agin.”
Delia found her voice abruptly.