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Dalrymple, Leona, 1884-

"When the Yule Log Burns A Christmas Story"


"Yes," said Doctor Ralph, huskily, "I mean just that. Dad and I, little
man, we're going to do what we can."
By the window Sister Madge buried her face in her hands.
"Come, come, now Sister Madge," came the Doctor's kindly voice a little
later, "you've cried enough, lass. Roger is fretting about you and
Doctor Ralph here, he says he's going to take you for a little
sleigh-ride if you'll honor him by going."
Outside a Christmas moon rode high above a sparkling ice-bright world
and as the sleigh shot away into its quiet glory, Ralph, meeting the
dark, tear-bright eyes of Sister Madge, tucked the robes closer about
her with a hand that shook a little.
"'Gipsy' Hildreth!" he said suddenly, smiling, but the hated nickname
to-night was almost a caress. "Tell me," Ralph's voice was very
grave--"You've been sewing? Mother spoke of it."
"There was nothing else," said Sister Madge. "I could not leave Roger."
"And now Mother wants you to stay on with her. You--you'll do that?"
"She is very lonely," said Madge uncertainly and Ralph bit his lip.
"Mother lonely!" he said. "She didn't tell me that."
"Roger is wild to stay," went on Madge, looking away--"but I--oh--I fear
it is only their wonderful kindness.


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