Snow came in December; and Christmas followed. They kept the mystic festival alone together; and Athalie had a tiny tree lighted in the room between hers and Clive's, and hung it with toys and picture books.
It was very pretty in its tinsel and tinted globes; and its faint light glimmered on the walls and dainty furniture of the dim pink room.
Afterward Athalie laid away tinsel and toy, wrapping all safely in tissue, as though to be kept secure and fresh for another Christmas—the most wonderful that any girl could dream of. And perhaps it was to be even more wonderful than Athalie had dreamed.
December turned very cold. The ice thickened; and she skated with Clive on Spring Pond. The ice also remained through January and February that winter; but after December had ended Athalie skated no more.
Clive, unknown to her, had sent for a Shaker cloak and hood of scarlet; and when it arrived Athalie threw back her lovely head and laughed till the tears dimmed her eyes.
"All the same," he said, "you don't look much older in it than you looked in your red hood and cloak the first day I ever set eyes on you."
"You poor darling!—as though even you could push back the hands of Time! It's the funniest and sweetest thing you ever did—to send for this red, hooded cloak."