“At least, I know he has taken it occasionally out at a dinner or somewhere that he thought he had to, but he doesn’t care for it at all, and he never accepts it when he is out with me!” she added proudly. “He just doesn’t order it. He says I’ve been very good for him, Mother! You needn’t be in the least afraid of anything like that. He understands perfectly how I feel about drinking, and he says it’s nothing to him at all, whether he drinks or whether he doesn’t drink! He says that he never wants to do anything to worry me.”

A misty look came into Daryl’s eyes as she remembered the look in the young man’s eyes when he had told her this.

The mother watched her, more fearful than ever, yet saw and understood that misty look, too, and felt for her child again.

“Dear Father in heaven! Grant that it may be so!” her heart breathed.

“Oh, Mother! You are just spoiling this perfectly wonderful Christmastime!” Daryl suddenly said with a quiver of her young lips.

“There now, child! Put this all away!” the mother said quickly. “You got it all up out of whole cloth! And of course I’ll like him if he’s all right. And of course he’s all right or you wouldn’t like him. I’ll be very fond of him when I know him better. Don’t I always like your friends? And besides, why make such a fuss about it? You’re not engaged to him or anything, not yet anyway! You’re just friends!”

“Yes, of course,” said Daryl, relief beginning to overspread her face, “just friends!” But there was a twinkle in the corner of her mouth where a dimple lurked.

“But awfully good friends!” she added with the starry look coming back into her eyes.

“Yes, of course!” said the mother, suddenly drawing her girl into her arms and smothering a sigh in her sweet young neck as she kissed her cheek tenderly.

And just at that moment the fat got itself ready to boil over, and the experimental doughnut came to the top as black as a doughnut could possibly be. The ensuing rescue diverted the conversation for the time being, and when calm had been restored the two loving women dared not broach the subject again.

Daryl, at least, forgot it, and her joy bubbled over in song now and again as she sifted powdered sugar over the big platter of beautifully brown crisp doughnuts, while she cleaned the fine old family silver, and got out the best long tablecloth to look it over for possible breaks, counted out the napkins, and arranged everything in order in the sideboard so that the dinner tomorrow would be assembled with the least possible effort. And now and again she would drop into the living room for a minute to ripple out some notes on the piano, and trill a bit of a song, some favorite of her mother’s or a snatch of something she had learned out in the world. It was all one joyous Christmas medley of happiness, and the wonderful Christmas wasn’t spoiled after all.

So Daryl went back to the kitchen to assist in the solemn ceremony of stuffing the big turkey. It was the one that Father had raised with such care, until it almost seemed a part of the family.

As they worked they planned out what things should be done at what hours so that the necessary work in the kitchen should not hinder the joy and good fellowship in the living room.

“Ruth wanted to be here this morning to help us, but they had to go and put the Primary Christmas party this afternoon, and she had to stay and get ready for that,” said Daryl as she worked away, rubbing breadcrumbs fine as fleece and then rubbing them into the sweet butter that Mother had made from the cream of their own cow. Daryl was thrilled not a little to be at home helping with all the homey pleasant duties, preparing the delicious delicacies such as the world outside could never achieve even with all its luxury and glamour.

The morning sped rapidly, and the two were so busy with their work that they did not notice when the first snowflakes fell, and it was the mother who discovered it first after all.

“Daryl! It’s snowing!” she announced, suddenly pausing as she lifted a pie out of the oven and set it on the table. “It’s been snowing some time. See, the ground is quite white already!”

“Oh, isn’t that just grand!” said Daryl, going to the window to look out. “It’s really going to be a snow as Father said, not just a little flurry! Oh, it will be the realest Christmas we’ve ever had!”

The mother looked at her compassionately and smiled, covering her own forebodings.

“Yes!” she said. “A white Christmas! But I do wish our boys would get back!” She looked at the clock uneasily. “If they only went to Pine Ridge they ought to be here pretty soon.”

“If you ask me, I think they went farther. I know Dad had it in mind to get a really wonderful tree this time, one that we would always remember. Don’t look at the clock, Mother, and don’t worry! They’ll take care of each other, and there’s nothing really to happen to them. Let’s just enjoy this morning together! It’s so gorgeous to be together, getting ready for Christmas!”

The mother’s heart leaped up to that call with a thrill. She would put aside all cares and worries for the future and just exult in her girl and being together with her for that morning. Times would come, she knew only too well, when she would need to remember that precious look from Daryl, and those words. She must treasure them as armor against the desolation that would be sure to come in the future.

So she put her worries in the background, and they were just two girls together, getting ready for a joyous occasion.

As the morning went on the kitchen began to take on the air of being ready to feed a hungry army. Crisp brown loaves of bread were cooling across their iron pans, pies in a fragrant row stood on a broad shelf by the window, and the turkey, full to bursting, was just getting its waistcoat buttoned across its breast.

“The hardest things are done now,” said Daryl, as she measured out the sugar for the cranberries.

“Yes,” said her mother with satisfaction. “I’m glad I made the fruitcake several weeks ago. It’s always nice to use between times during holidays. I think we have plenty so that the work can be kept at a minimum while our guests are here. And the lunch is all ready as soon as our men get home.” She looked complacently toward the kettle of old-fashioned bean soup on the back of the range, getting itself cooked without any fuss or trouble to anybody. “The soup with bread and butter and applesauce and coffee will be all we’ll need.