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Soon the lid of the old piano was raised, a spinet, really, and one of the girls began running her fingers over the keys; and later on it was agreed that the first dance was to be the Virginia reel, with all the hospitable chairs and the fire screen and the gouty old sofa rolled back against the wall.

This all arranged, Mark took his place with the Little Gray Lady for a partner. The music struck up a lively tune and as quickly ceased as the sound of bells rang through the night air. In the hush that followed a sleigh was heard at the gate.

Kate sprang up and clapped her hands.

“Oh, they are just in time! There come the rest of them, Cousin Annie. Now we are going to have a great party! Let’s be dancing when they come in; keep on playing!”

At this instant the door opened and Margaret put in her head. “Somebody,” she said, with a low bow, “wants to see Mr. Mark on business.”

Mark, looking like a gallant of the old school, excused himself with a great flourish to the Little Gray Lady and strode out. In the hall, with his back to the light, stood a broad-shouldered man muffled to the chin in a fur overcoat. The boy was about to apologize for his costume and then ask the man’s errand, when the stranger turned quickly and gripped his wrist.

“Hush–not a word! Where is she?” he cried.

With a low whistle of surprise Mark pushed open the door. The stranger stepped in.

The Little Gray Lady raised her head.

“And who can this new guest be?” she asked–“and in what a queer costume, too!”

The man drew himself up to his full height and threw wide his coat: “And you don’t know me, Annie?”

She did not take her eyes from his face, nor did she move except to turn her head appealingly to the room as if she feared they were playing her another trick.

He had reached her side and stood looking down at her. Again came the voice–a strong, clear voice, with a note of infinite tenderness through it:

“How white your hair is, Annie; and your hand is so thin! Have I changed like this?”

She leaned forward, scanning him eagerly.

There was a little cry, then all her soul went out in the one word:

“Harry!”

She was inside the big coat now, his strong arms around her, her head hidden on his breast, only the tips of her toes on the floor.

When he had kissed her again and again–and he did and before everybody–he crossed the room, picked up the ghostly candle, and smothered its flame.

“I saw it from the road,” he laughed softly, “that’s why I couldn’t wait. But you’ll never have to light it again, my darling!”

I saw them both a few years later. Everything in the way of fading and wrinkling had stopped so far as the Little Gray Lady was concerned. If there were any lines left in her forehead and around the corners of her eyes, I could not find them. Joy had planted a crop of dimples instead, and they had spread out, smoothing the care lines. Margaret even claimed that her hair was turning brown gold once more, but then Margaret was always her loyal slave, and believed everything her mistress wished.

And now, if you don’t mind, dear reader, we will put everything back and shut the Little Gray Lady’s bureau drawer.