Contrary Mary

She shook her head. Tears were very near the surface. He saw it and

was jealously unhappy. What had brought her in this mood from the

Tower Rooms?

And now Barry turned off the lights, and in the darkness Mary struck

the first chords and began to sing, "Holy Night----"

As her voice throbbed through the stillness, little stars shone out

upon the tree until it was all in shining glory.

Up-stairs, Roger heard Mary singing. He went to his window and drew

back the curtains. Outside the world was wrapped in snow. The lights

from the lower windows shone on the fountain, and showed the little

bronze boy in a winding sheet of white.

But it was not the little bronze boy that Roger Poole saw. It was

another boy--himself--singing in a dim church in a big city, and his

soul was in the words. And when he knelt to pray, it seemed to him

that the whole world prayed. He was bathed in reverence. In his

boyish soul there was no hint of unbelief--no doubt of the divine

mystery.

He saw himself again in a church. And now it was he who spoke to the

people of the Shepherds and the Star. And he knew that he was making

them believe. That he was bringing to them the assurance which

possessed his own soul--and again there were candles on the altar, and

again he sang, and the choir boys sang, and the song was the one that

Mary Ballard was singing---He saw himself once more in a church. But this time there was no

singing. There were no candles, no light except such as came faintly

through the leaded panes. He was alone in the dimness, and he stood in

the pulpit and looked around at the empty pews. Then the light went

out behind the windows, and he knelt in the darkness; but not to pray.

His head was hidden in his arms. Since then he had never shed a tear,

and he had never gone to church.

* * * * * * Mary's song was followed by carols in which the other voices

joined--Porter's and Barry's and Leila's; General Dick's breathy tenor,

Aunt Isabelle's quaver, Aunt Frances' dominant note--with Susan Jenks

and the colored maid who helped her on such occasions, piping up like

two melodious blackbirds in the hall.

Then General Dick played Santa Claus, handing out the parcels with

felicitous little speeches.

Constance had sent a big box from London. There were fads and

fripperies from Grace Clendenning in Paris, while Aunt Frances had

evidently raided Fifth Avenue and had brought away its treasures.

"It looks like a French shop," said Leila, happy in her own gifts of

gloves and silk stockings and slipper buckles and beads, and the

crowning bliss of a little pearl heart from Barry.