"Peace on Earth and Good-Will toward Men" was the legend set forth by the brilliantly colored letters.
What a mockery those words seemed to be! There had never been peace or good-will in their house, even in the old days when they were tolerably prosperous, before her father went away.
She walked very slowly now, for she was thinking of that old time. She had loved her father more than she had ever loved any one else. To her he had always been kind; he had never found fault with her, and had smoothed all the rough places out of her life. Her mother had been neat and smart and capable, as the New England phrase is. Higher praise than this Mrs. Haygarth did not covet. But like many capable women, she had acquired a habit of small faultfinding, a perpetual dropping, which would have worn even a stone, and George Haygarth was no stone.
The woman loved her husband, doubtless, in some fashion of her own, but to save her life she could not have kept from "nagging" him. She fretted if he brought mud upon his shoes over her clean floor, if he spent money on any pleasure for himself, any extra indulgence for Olive; above all, if he ever took a fancy to keep holiday.
Just five years ago things had come to a climax. Olive was thirteen years old then, and he had brought her home for Christmas some ornaments,—a pin and earrings, not very expensive, but in Mrs. Haygarth's eyes useless and unnecessary. She assailed him bitterly, and for a marvel he heard her out in dumb silence. When she was all through, he only said,—
"I think I can spare the eight dollars they cost me, since I am not likely to give the girl any thing again for some time. It will be too far to send Christmas gifts from Colorado."
Mrs. Haygarth's temper was up, and she answered him with an evil sneer,—
"Colorado, indeed! Colorado is peopled with wide-awake men. It's no place for you out there."
He made no reply, only got up and went out; and, going by Olive, he stooped and kissed her. How well she remembered that kiss!
Through the week afterward he went to his work as usual, but he spent scarcely any time at home, and when there made little talk. All his wife's accustomed flings and innuendoes fell on his ears apparently unheeded. The night before New Year's he was busy a long time in his own room. When he came out he handed Mrs. Haygarth a folded paper.