Christmas Eve. All day a blaze of white and gold, softening now into cold glories of rose and violet over the great snow-fields. The road, white upon white, outlined with fringes of trees, and here and there a stretch of stump fence, was as empty as the fields, the solitary sleigh with its solitary occupant seeming only to emphasize the loneliness.
Calvin Parks looked down the long stretch of road into which he had just turned, and gave a long whistle.
"Hossy," he said, "do you know what this ro'd wants? It wants society! I don't know as it would be reasonable to expect a house, or even a barn, but it does seem as if they might scare up a cow; what?"
Hossy whinnied sympathetically.
"Just so!" said Calvin. "That's what I say. Christmas Eve and all, it does really appear as if they might scare up a cow. Not that she'd be likely to trade to any great extent. What say? She'd buy as much as that last woman did? That's so, hossy; you're right there. But we ain't complainin', you and me, I want you to understand. We've done real well this trip, and before we get our little oats to-night we'll work off every stick in the whole concern, you see if we don't, and have money to put in the bank, io, money to put in the bank. Gitty up, you hossy!" He flourished his whip round the brown horse's head and whistled a merry tune.
"Hello! What's up now?"
Some one was standing at the turn of the road ahead, waving to him; a child; a little girl in cloak and hood, her red-mittened hands gesticulating wildly.
"We're a-comin', we're a-comin'!" said Calvin Parks. "Git there just the very minute we git there, you see if we don't. Why, Mittie May! you don't mean to tell me this is you?"
"Oh! yes, please!" cried the child. "Oh! please will you come and see Miss Fidely? oh! please will you?"
"There! there! little un; why, you're all out of breath. Been runnin', have ye?"