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Page 42
It was in the chair under the stocking that she found the gloves from
Eugenia, the book from "Cousin Carl" and a long box that she opened with
breathless interest because Phil's card lay atop. On it was scribbled,
"The 'Best Man's' best wishes for a Merry Christmas to Mary."
Tearing off the ribbons and the tissue paper wrappings she lifted the
lid, and then drew a long rapturous breath, exclaiming, "Roses! American
Beauty roses! The first flowers a man ever sent me--and from the _Best_
Man!"
She laid her face down among the cool velvety petals and closed her
eyes, drinking in the fragrance. Then she lifted each perfect bud and
half blown flower to examine it separately, revelling in the sweetness
and colour. Then the uncomfortable thought occurred to her that she was
happier over this gift than she had been over the furs or the
long-wished-for ring, and she began to make excuses to herself.
"Maybe if I'd always had them sent to me as Lloyd and Betty and the
other girls have, it wouldn't seem such a big thing. But this is the
first time. Of course it doesn't mean anything as it would if he had
sent them to Lloyd. He is in love with _her_. Still--I'm glad he chose
roses."
She touched the last one to her lips. It was so cool and sweet that she
held it there a moment before she slipped out of bed and ran across the
room to thrust the long stems into the water pitcher. She would ask the
maid for a more fitting receptacle after awhile, but in the meantime she
would keep them fresh as possible.
When she went down to breakfast she wore one thrust in her belt, and
some of its colour seemed to have found its way into her cheeks when
she thanked Phil for his gift. The same rose was pinned on her coat,
when later in the morning they went to a Christmas service at St.
Boniface, the little stone church in the village, a mile away. Eugenia
had suggested their going. She said it would be such a picture with the
snow on its ivy-covered belfry, and the icicles hanging from the eaves.
Some noted singer was to be in the choir, and would sing several solos.
The walking would be fine through the dry crunching snow, and as they
had right of way through all of the neighbouring estates between them
and the village, it would be like going through an English park.
Stuart had an urgent round of professional visits to make and could not
join them, and at the last moment some message came from the Orphanage
in reference to the tree, which kept Eugenia at home to make some
alteration in her plans. So when the time came to start only the four
guests set out across the snowy lawn, down the woodland path leading to
the village. They went Indian file at first in order that Phil might
make a trail through the snow, until they reached the beaten path.
It was colder than they had expected to find it, and presently Mary
dropped back to the rear, so that she might hold her muff up,
unobserved, to shield the rose she wore. She could not bear to have its
lovely petals take on a dark purplish tinge at the edges where the frost
curled them. In the church the steam-heated atmosphere brought out its
fragrance till it was almost overpoweringly sweet, but when she glanced
down she saw that it was no longer crisp and glowing. It had wilted in
the sudden change, and hung limp and dying on its stem.
"I'll put it away in an envelope when I get back to the house," thought
Mary. "When they all fade I'll save the leaves and make a potpourri of
them like we made of Eugenia's wedding roses, and put them away in my
little Japanese rose-jar, to keep always."
Then the music began, and she entered heartily into the beautiful
Christmas service. The offering was to be divided among the various
charities of the parish, it had been announced, and Mary, remembering
the bright new quarter in her purse, was glad that she had earned that
bit of silver herself. It made it so much more of a personal offering
than if she had saved it from her allowance. She slipped her purse out
of her jacket pocket as the prelude of the offertory filled the aisles
and rose to the arches of the vaulted roof.
The man who carried the plate was slowly making his way towards the pew
in which she sat, and with her gaze fixed on him, she began fumbling
with the clasp of her purse, under cover of her muff. She had never seen
such a rubicund portly gentleman, with two double chins and expansive
bald spot on his crown. She held the coin between her fingers awaiting
his slow approach. Just as he reached the end of their pew where Phil
was sitting, she sneezed. Not a loud sneeze, but one of those inward
convulsions that makes the whole body twitch spasmodically.
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