“You acted as if you knew the exact minute when they would be needed.”

Mother smiled.

“I just asked the Lord to show me what to do about it,” she said gently.

“And you think the Lord gives attention to such little details as how long a potato should cook?” asked Ruth earnestly.

“Why yes, dear,” answered the mother, “if you put a matter, even a little matter, into the Lord’s hands to guide you, and trust that He will, of course He will.”

“Well, but suppose He didn’t, Mother? What would you think then?”

“I would think I hadn’t trusted Him,” said the mother promptly.

“Leave it to Mother to provide an alibi for her faith,” Lance said, grinning.

Alan caught the tender look in Lance’s eyes as he glanced toward his mother, and a great envy and hunger grew in his heart for a home such as this other young man had. No wonder he was what he was, a prince among men. It had taken him only a very few minutes out in that terrible storm to show him that, and the hours they had faced death together had bound his heart to Lance’s in a love that he felt would last forever.

And now of course the next thing in order was for him to go away, just as soon as it was light, and leave them decently to their own holiday without intruders. He sighed at the thought of going and somehow the Christmas time seemed suddenly a hundredfold more desolate to him than when he had started out in the morning. Was this only the midnight of that day? It seemed so very long, and yet all too short now that it was ended. But it was worth all the suffering and danger in the storm, just to know there was one such family on the earth today.

As the numb flesh thawed out, their blood began to flow in its natural course again, and the warm food renewed their strength. The young men revived perceptibly.

“Well, I feel pretty good after all,” said Alan, lifting first one foot and then the other as he slowly, cautiously arose from the table. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to use these arms and legs again, did you, Lance?”

“Well no,” responded Lance, “I thought we’d have to have artificial ones if we ever lived to need them.”

So they laughed and joked about their recent peril, and the family devoured them with thankful eyes and tried to smile, but the anxiety was too recent to warrant much mirth about it for them.

“Well now,” said Mother Devereaux, looking around radiantly upon her family circle, “the next thing on the program of course is to hang up the stockings, but if you boys would rather just be tucked into bed first it will be all right. The girls can hang up the stockings for you.”

“No, indeed!” called out Lance, who had dropped down into a chair to save his ankle, and now dragged himself to the living room door. “We aren’t going to be cheated out of that fun, are we, Alan? That’s what we hurried home for, to be in time to hang up our stockings.”

“I’d hate to be left out of anything that’s going,” said Alan pleasantly, “but you know, Lance, I don’t belong here. I’m only something the storm blew down on your tender mercies. I don’t want to intrude. If you’ll just let me lie here on the dining room couch till it’s daylight, I’ll try to take myself off out of your way.”

“The idea!” cried both of the girls. “When we’ve got your stocking all ready to hang up! Planning to walk out on us! Just like that!”

“Nothing doing, old man!’ said Lance, slapping his new friend feebly on the shoulder with his best arm. “If you didn’t earn your way into this family, and your right to hang up your stocking with the best of us when you carried me though that blast, I don’t know who belongs. Man alive, if you hadn’t stuck to me and dragged me in I’d have laid down in the snow and given up. I was all in, and that’s the truth. When that ankle doubled under me the pain was something awful, and sickened me. You saved my life, boy, and you talk about not belonging!”

It was Father Devereaux who was beside the stranger instantly, with his hand upon his shoulder.

“Friend,” he said earnestly, “son, you’re welcome, and you’re one of us. We shouldn’t be happy to see you go till the Christmas is past, unless you have someone who has a deeper claim upon you, and who would be grieving at your absence.” He peered into the young man’s eyes with something like a searching question in his own.

“I haven’t!” said Alan huskily, shaking his head. “My folks are all gone. Just friends left, but they wouldn’t care a cent whether I came or went. I’m free as far as that’s concerned, but I couldn’t think of butting in where I don’t belong.”

It was left for Mother Devereaux to answer that, and she came over and put a gentle arm around the young man’s broad shoulders and laid soft lips against his cheek and kissed him.

“Of course you belong,” she said tenderly. “We couldn’t think of letting you go! We want you!”

Alan was deeply touched. His eyes filled with sudden tears.

“That’s wonderful of you,” he said huskily. “I appreciate that, and with all my heart I’ll stay. But you must promise not to upset any of your plans. If you’ll just let me park on that couch I’ll be perfectly comfortable. I heard someone say you were expecting another guest, and I couldn’t think of crowding him out.”

Instinctively his eyes sought Daryl’s, and he saw the deep shadow come suddenly into her eyes, and her lovely lips set in a thin, sharp line. She lifted her chin just a little and a proud, tired look came and covered the sorrow in her eyes.