"You are more than welcome," replied Mrs. Hickson; "but I fear that the children are imposing on you."
Dorian assured her that the pleasure was his, and after the mail carrier had departed, he thought it wise to explain further.
"A very strange thing has happened," said Dorian. "As I was going after the tree for the children, I met the young lady who is staying at Mrs. Carlston."
"Miss Davis."
"Yes; she's a neighbor of mine. We grew up together as boy and girl.
Through some trouble, she left home, and—in fact, I have been searching
for her. I am going to try to get her to go home to her parents.
She—she could help us with our tree dressing this evening."
"We'd like to have both our neighbors visit with us," said Mrs. Hickson; "but the snow is rather deep for them."
By the middle of the afternoon Dorian cleared a path to the neighboring house, and then went stamping on to the porch. Carlia opened the door and gave him a smiling welcome. She had dressed up a bit, he could see, and he was pleased with the thought that it was for him. Dorian delivered the invitation to the two women. Carlia would go immediately to help, and Mrs. Carlston would come later. Carlia was greeted by the children as a real addition to their company.
"Did you bring an extra of stockings?" asked Mrs. Hickson of her. "An up-to-date Santa Claus is going to visit us tonight, I am sure." She glanced toward Dorian, who was busy with the children and the tree.
That was a Christmas Eve long to be remembered by all those present in that house amid solitude of snow, of mountain, and of pine forests. The tree, under the magic touches of Dorian and Carlia grew to be a thing of beauty, in the eyes of the children. The home-made candles and decorations were pronounced to be as good as the "boughten ones." And the candy—what a miracle worker this sober-laughing, ruddy-haired young fellow was!
Carlia could not resist the spirit of cheer. She smiled with the older people and laughed with the children. How good it was to laugh again, she thought. When the tree was fully ablaze, all, with the exception of Mr. Hickson joined hands and danced around it. Then they had to taste of the various and doubtful makings of candies, and ate a bread-pan of snow-white popcorn sprinkled with melted butter. Then Mr. Hickson told some stories, and his wife in a clear, sweet voice led the children in some Christmas songs. Oh, it was a real Christmas Eve, made doubly joyful by the simple helpfulness and kindness of all who took part.