It is not a gift to enrich me with new happiness; it is a
lesson that leaves me poorer."
He went on without pausing:
"It is already late. The children interrupted us and took up part of
your evening. But it is not too late for me to present to you some
little part of your gift. I am going to arrange for you a short story
out of the long one. The whole long story is there," he added,
directing his eyes toward the manuscript at her elbow; and his voice
showed how he felt a scholar's pride in it. "From you it can pass out
to the world that celebrates Christmas and that often perhaps asks the
same question: What is the history of the Christmas Tree? But now my
story for you!"
"Wait a moment," she said, rising. She left the package where it was;
and with feet that trembled against the soft carpet crossed the room
and seated herself at one end of a deep sofa.
Gathering her dignity about her, she took there the posture of a
listener--listening at her ease.
The sofa was of richly carved mahogany. Each end curved into a scroll
like a landward wave of the sea. One of her foam-white arms rested on
one of the scrolls. Her elbow, reaching beyond, touched a small table
on which stood a vase of white frosted glass; over the rim of it
profuse crimson carnations hung their heads.
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