Her face showed not a qualm at
parting with these childhood treasures; only the stern sense of a good
housekeeper's duty fulfilled. With queer contortions the bits writhed on
the coals, and finally flared into dissolution, vanishing up chimney in a
shower of sparks to the heaven of spent toys.
CHAPTER VI
THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL
Almost at the bottom of the box Miss Terry's fingers closed about a small
object. Once more she drew out the papier-mache Angel which had so excited
the wonder of Norah when once before that evening it had come to light.
Miss Terry held it up and looked at it with the same expression on her
face, half tender, half contemptuous. "The Christmas Angel!" she murmured
involuntarily, as she had done before. And again there flashed through her
mind a vivid picture.
It was the day before Christmas, fifty years earlier. She and her brother
Tom were trimming the Christmas tree in this very library. She saw Tom, in
a white pique suit with short socks that were always slipping down his fat
legs. She saw herself in a white dress and blue ribbons, pouting in a
corner. They had been quarreling about the Christmas tree, disputing as to
which of them should light the first candle when the time arrived.
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