VI
MILDLY the Christmas moon rose over Westowe, silvering the snowy hill-gables to the north and the covered bridge; trailing a snow-white ribbon of light through Pine Tree Lane, and mantling the cottage among the pines with the peaceful moon-fire of a Christmas Eve.
And up through the snow-sparkle of the steep moon-lit path to the chapel on the hill climbed Aunt Cheerful Loring, helped ever so gently upward by the sturdy arm of gallant Lord Chesterfield. Snow-sparkle and a Christmas moon and the sound of the chapel organ through the lighted windows above! What wonder that all of it lured Aunt Cheerful to climb as she had never climbed before, with scarcely a thought for the poor lame foot.
"Not so fast, Lady Cheerful!" begged the boy gently.
"But, my dear Lord Chesterfield," urged Aunt Cheerful with a brisk tap! tap! of her crutch, "I can not possibly miss any of this wonderful Christmas celebration for which you have worked so busily and—hear! already they are singing the Christmas hymn!"
Down through the cold air from the moonlit chapel above came the sound of a reverent chorus chanting "Holy Night," and Lord Chesterfield's brown eyes glowed strangely.