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He was a slight, pale, boyish-looking fellow, with an abstracted, musing look in his large dark eyes. Mrs. Grant noticed with amusement that he wore a white straw hat in spite of the season. His eyes were directed to her face with his usual unseeing gaze.

“Just as though he was looking through me at something a thousand miles away,” said Mrs. Grant afterwards. “I believe he was, too. His body was right there on the step before me, but where his soul was is more than you or I or anybody can tell.”

“Good morning,” he said absently. “I have just called on my way to school with a message from Miss Millar. She wants you all to come up and have Christmas dinner with her tomorrow.”

“For the land’s sake!” said Mrs. Grant blankly. “I don’t understand.” To herself she thought, “I wish I dared take him and shake him to find if he’s walking in his sleep or not.”

“You and all the children–every one,” went on the teacher dreamily, as if he were reciting a lesson learned beforehand. “She told me to tell you to be sure and come. Shall I say that you will?”

“Oh, yes, that is–I suppose–I don’t know,” said Mrs. Grant incoherently. “I never expected–yes, you may tell her we’ll come,” she concluded abruptly.

“Thank you,” said the abstracted messenger, gravely lifting his hat and looking squarely through Mrs. Grant into unknown regions. When he had gone Mrs. Grant went in and sat down, laughing in a sort of hysterical way.

“I wonder if it is all right. Could Cornelia really have told him? She must, I suppose, but it is enough to take one’s breath.”

Mrs. Grant and Cornelia Millar were cousins, and had once been the closest of friends, but that was years ago, before some spiteful reports and ill-natured gossip had come between them, making only a little rift at first that soon widened into a chasm of coldness and alienation. Therefore this invitation surprised Mrs. Grant greatly.

Miss Cornelia was a maiden lady of certain years, with a comfortable bank account and a handsome, old-fashioned house on the hill behind the village. She always boarded the schoolteachers and looked after them maternally; she was an active church worker and a tower of strength to struggling ministers and their families.

“If Cornelia has seen fit at last to hold out the hand of reconciliation I’m glad enough to take it. Dear knows, I’ve wanted to make up often enough, but I didn’t think she ever would. We’ve both of us got too much pride and stubbornness. It’s the Turner blood in us that does it. The Turners were all so set. But I mean to do my part now she has done hers.”

And Mrs. Grant made a final attack on the dishes with a beaming face.

When the little Grants came home and heard the news, Teddy stood on his head to express his delight, the twins kissed each other, and Mary Alice and Gordon danced around the kitchen.

Keith thought himself too big to betray any joy over a Christmas dinner, but he whistled while doing the chores until the bare welkin in the yard rang, and Teddy, in spite of unheard of misdemeanours, was not collared off into the porch once.

When the young teacher got home from school that evening he found the yellow house full of all sorts of delectable odours. Miss Cornelia herself was concocting mince pies after the famous family recipe, while her ancient and faithful handmaiden, Hannah, was straining into moulds the cranberry jelly. The open pantry door revealed a tempting array of Christmas delicacies.

“Did you call and invite the Smithsons up to dinner as I told you?” asked Miss Cornelia anxiously.

“Yes,” was the dreamy response as he glided through the kitchen and vanished into the hall.

Miss Cornelia crimped the edges of her pies delicately with a relieved air. “I made certain he’d forget it,” she said. “You just have to watch him as if he were a mere child. Didn’t I catch him yesterday starting off to school in his carpet slippers? And in spite of me he got away today in that ridiculous summer hat. You’d better set that jelly in the out-pantry to cool, Hannah; it looks good. We’ll give those poor little Smithsons a feast for once in their lives if they never get another.”