"Nothing good enough for Sister Madge, eh?" broke in the old Doctor,
looking up. "Well, sir, I think you're right."
Now in the silence Aunt Ellen spoke and her words were like a gentle
Christmas benediction.
"'Unto us,'" said Aunt Ellen Leslie as she turned the Christmas log,
"'this night a son is given!'"
But Ralph, by the window, had not heard. For wakening again in his heart
as he stared at the peaceful, moonlit, "God-made" hills--was the old
forgotten boyish love for this rugged, simple life of his father's
dwarfing the lure of the city and the mockery of his fashionable
friends. And down the lane of years ahead, bright with homely happiness
and service to the needs of others--was the dark and winsome face of
Sister Madge, stirring him to ardent resolution.
Part Two
In Which We Light the New Log with the Embers of the Old
I
The Fire Again
"Doctor!" said little Roger slyly, "you got your chin stuck out!"
The Doctor stroked his grizzled beard in hasty apology.
"God bless my soul," he admitted guiltily. "I do believe I have. You've
been so quiet," he added accusingly, "curled up there by the fire that I
must certainly have gotten lonesome. And I most always stick out my chin
that way when I'm lonesome.
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