Instead of applause, there was the truer and more appropriate tribute of silence when Hemstead finished the mosaic of a story which, by the various narratives, had been developed so differently and yet characteristically. The eyes of more than one were moist, and Lottie hastily left the room.

Mr. Dimmerly was the first to recover himself, and, after blowing his nose most vociferously, managed to say: "Well, nephew, it was hardly the thing to get a sermon off on us before Sunday, but, since it was rather well done, I don't think we will complain. I now suggest that you young people have some games that will set your blood in motion. The last hours of Christmas eve should ever be the merriest. I will send Lottie back,—the tender-hearted little minx, who must take everything in earnest."

His advice was followed, and Lottie soon returned, becoming, as usual, the life of the company. A breezy sound of voices and many a ringing laugh took the place of the former hush, as games and jests followed in quick succession.

Harcourt was good-naturedly on the alert to serve Hemstead, and, in a game that required the absence of two of the company from the room a few moments, suggested the names of the student and Lottie Marsden. They, nothing loath, went out together into the empty hall.

"Do you know," said Hemstead, "I think it a little strange I have not had a chance to speak to you alone since we were at the fallen tree in the clump of hemlocks?"

"I did not know," said Lottie, laughing and blushing, "that the 'fallen tree' was a trysting place."

"Well," said he, eagerly, "I met a young lady there once, whom I would gladly meet there or anywhere else again."

"To see whether she had taken your advice?"

"That depends. I doubt whether she can 'make a man' of a certain individual, and I fear she will not take the other alternative."

"She will probably do as Ninon did,—follow her heart." "If one could only know whither your heart would lead you!" he said, looking at her so wistfully that she, seeing through his thin disguise, had it on her tongue to tell him. But, instead, she took a few dancing steps away, and, with no such intention whatever, stood just under the mistletoe as she laughingly said, "That reminds me of what father often says: How nice it would be to speculate, if one only knew every time how it would turn out!"

"Miss Marsden!" he exclaimed, hurriedly, "you are right under the mistletoe."

She tried to spring away, but he snatched her hand and detained her, while he stood hesitatingly at her side, looking at her lips as if they were the gates of Paradise.

"Well," said she, laughing and blushing, "I have nothing to do in the matter."

"But I dare not take it unless you give it."

"And I dare not give it unless you take it."

If Hemstead did not emulate Mr. Dimmerly's "explosion," the ancient rite was nevertheless honored in a way that Lottie would not soon forget. Never did a kiss mean more, express more, or impart more, upon any occasion of the observance of the ceremony by her ancestors, back to the times of the Druids.

But this moment of bliss was of short duration, for Mrs. Marchmont unexpectedly entered the hall, and threw them both into disastrous confusion by exclaiming, in unfeigned astonishment, "Well, well! what does this mean?"

Of course Lottie was the first to recover herself, and managed to falter: "You see, auntie, by some accident—I assure you it was an accident; I didn't mean to do it at all—I got under that pesky mistletoe of uncle's, and Mr. Hemstead, it would seem, had taken to heart uncle's homily on the duty of keeping up old customs. Mr. Hemstead, you know, is so conscientious, and I suppose he felt that he must, poor man; and so—and thus"—

At this moment Harcourt's expedients of delay failed, and they were loudly summoned back to the dining-room.

"I hope there will be no more such nonsense," said Mrs. Marchmont, severely.

"O, no, indeed, auntie; it will never happen again. Only the strongest sense of duty could have impelled Mr. Hemstead to do such a thing"; and they escaped to the dining-room only to be subjected to a fire from another quarter. Their color was so high, and they had such an air of general confusion, that Harcourt cried, laughingly, "I more than half believe that you have been under the mistletoe."

"Nonsense!" said Lottie; "with auntie in the hall? If you think
Mr. Hemstead is brave enough for that, you greatly misjudge him."

But De Forrest was wofully suspicious, and had many uneasy thoughts about the "jest" which Lottie must be carrying out; for surely it could not be possible that she was becoming in earnest.

Hemstead and Lottie made wretched work in guessing the word required of them from the nature of the game; for Mr. Dimmerly's prolonged chuckling laugh, which could be heard from the parlor, did not tend to allay their confusion.

When Mrs. Marchmont entered that apartment she found her brother apparently in a convulsion; but he was only vainly endeavoring to prevent his merriment from developing into an outrageous chuckle, for he too had seen Lottie under the mistletoe.

"Thi............