It was Christmas morning, and Esther was in the conservatory. Her uncle had given her permission to take as many flowers for her own use as she pleased. He well knew they would go to brighten some dreary home this Christmas Day. While she worked she was thinking—going back over the year somewhat. It had not been a happy year to her. She was obliged to confess to herself that she had never been more harassed and worried in her life. A shadow fell on her face as she meditated that when once Christmas is well gone, Spring is not far distant. Then she must be married. This home was not such a happy one that she need mourn to leave it, but she dreaded that new home more. Her troubled thoughts and troubled face did not accord with the beauty and fragrance about her, and neither brightened when Mr. Langdon was announced. He came in where she was at once, saying he was in haste.

"We have arranged a sleigh-ride for to-day," he said, after greeting her. "It was quite impromptu, because we were uncertain about the snow. We are going fifteen miles in the country, to Mr. Clayton's father's, where we are invited to dine. How soon can you get ready, Esther?"

"Oh! I cannot go. You know I told you, Mr. Langdon, that I had an engagement this morning at the 'Old Ladies' Home.'"

Mr. Langdon's lip curled. "Engagement! Surely you can postpone that."

"Surely I cannot. Patrick has gone to got me some greens, and I am going to trim their rooms a little and make a bouquet for each of them. They would be disappointed if I did not come—and so should I. They have looked forward to Christmas for weeks. They are old and poor and have so few pleasures, how can I deprive them of this when they have set their hearts on it?"

"As if nobody could attend to that nonsense but you! Send a servant with the flowers."

"But that wouldn't do at all. It's I they want more than anything. You see, there are very few people who appreciate me. Those old ladies do. I read to them and sing to them, and they think I am an angel just dropped down from Heaven. So you will be good and excuse me this time, and let me give you this as a Christmas token," and she tried to fasten a small white chrysanthemum in his coat.

But Mr. Langdon stepped back and said, with much sharpness of tone, "Esther, it is impossible that you are in earnest. I certainly shall not excuse you, if you are. Of course you will go with me. Go quickly and make ready. I shall call for you in an hour."

Esther reached up and clipped a spray of smilax before she spoke, which she did in a slow, resolute way. "Mr. Langdon, I am quite in earnest; I cannot go. I have made a promise, and I must keep it."

He had never seen Esther assume so much dignity before. She certainly did mean what she said. He was angry enough to go without her, but that would cause him some embarrassment; so he would condescend to persuasion, but this was done in such a manner as to be more offensive than some people's commands.