But the stocking seemed to say, “Try me and see what I can do for you.”
“I will,” thought Uncle Boardman. Down into the stocking he ran a good sized fist, and fished out a piece of paper neatly folded up.
“One of Lydia’s jokes,” he said. The paper though was directed to “Boardman Blake.” He took it to the eastern window, at which the Christmas sun was hanging an outside curtain of crimson. He opened the missive and read:
“Dear Boardman:—I have been thinking about your mortgage, and I have concluded to extend it as you wished, and I know you have had a hard time, and you may have it extended for one or two years, as you like, and not pay any interest. With a wish for a Merry Christmas,
“Your old friend,
John Elliott.”
Uncle Boardman felt enough like a happy boy to shout “Hurrah!” and then he skipped upstairs to execute a dance in his wife’s chamber.
“I thought it would make you happy,” said Aunt Lydia. “Miss Green was in here last evenin’ and brought it from the office, and so I tucked it into your stockin’.”
“Well, Lydia, you shall have a new gown from this, for your present.”
And what was it that moved Capt. Elliott to make that Christmas present? Could he say his prayers with comfort nowadays, and had he found such peace that he wished to take peace to another heart?