If

quiet, and strong that there was nothing to disturb her maidenly serenity. Webb had been any one but Webb, and she one who was in the habit of regarding all men as possible admirers, she would have understood herself long before this. If she had been brought up with brothers in her own home, she would have known that she welcomed this quiet brother with a gladness that had a deeper root than sisterly affection. But the fact that he was Webb, the quiet, self-controlled man who had called her sister Amy for a year, made his presence, his deep sympathy with her and for her, seem natural. His approaches had been so gradual that he was stealing into her heart as spring enters a flower. You can never name the first hour of its presence; you take no note of the imperceptible yet steady development. The process is quiet, yet vital and sure, and at last there comes an hour when the bud is ready to open. That time was near, and Webb hoped that it was. His tones were so tender and gentle at times that she looked at him a little wonderingly, but his manner was quiet, and far removed from that of the impetuous Burt. There was a warmth in it, however, like the increasing power of the sun, and in human hearts bleak December can be the spring-time as truly as May.

It was the 23d-one of the stormiest days of a stormy month. The snow flakes were whirling without, and making many a circle in the gale before joining their innumerable comrades that whitened the ground. The wind sighed and soughed about the old house as it had done a year before, but Webb and Amy were armed against its mournfulness. They were in the parlor, on whose wide hearth glowed an ample fire. Burt and Gertrude were expected on the evening train.

"Gertie is coming home through the snow just as I did," said Amy, fastening a spray of mistletoe that a friend had sent her from England to the chandelier, "and the same old warm welcome awaits her." "What a marvellous year it has been!" Webb remarked.

"It has, indeed. Just think of it! Burt is engaged to one of whose existence he did not know a year ago. He has been out West, and found that you have land that will make you all rich."

"Are these the greatest marvels of the year, Amy ?"

"No: there is a greater one. I didn't know you a year ago to-day, and now I seem to have known you always, you patient, homely old fellow-deliciously homely.' I shall never get over that."

"The eyes of scores of young fellows looked at you that evening as if you were deliciously handsome."

"And you looked at me one time as if you hadn't a friend in the world, and you wanted to be back in your native wilds."

"Not without you, Amy; and you said you wished you were looking at the rainbow shield with me again."

"Oh, I didn't say all that. And then I saw you needed heartening up a little."

"I did, indeed. You were dancing with a terrible swell, worth, it was said, half a million, who was devouring you with his eyes."

"I'm all here, thank you, and you look as if you were doing some devouring yourself. What makes you look at me so? Is there anything on my face?"

"Yes, some color, but it's just as nature arranged it, and you know nature's best work always fascinates me."

"What a gallant you are becoming! There, don't you think that is arranged well?" and she stood beneath the mistletoe, looking up critically at it.

"Let me see if it is;" and he advanced to her side. "This is the only test," he said, and quick as a flash he encircled her with his arm and pressed a kiss upon her lips.

She sprung aloof, and looked at him with dilating eyes. He had often kissed her before, and she had thought nothing more of it than of a brother's salute. Was it a subtle, mysterious power in the mistletoe itself with which it had been endowed by ages of superstition? Was that kiss like the final ray of the June sun that opens the heart of the rose when at last it is ready to expand? She looked at him wonderingly, tremblingly, the color of the rose mounting higher and higher, and deepening as if the blood were coming from the depths of her heart. He did not speak. To her wondering, questioning look he only bent full upon her his dark eyes, that had held hers once before in a moment of terror. She saw his secret in their depths at last, the love, the devotion, which she herself had unsuspectingly said would last always." She took a faltering step toward him, then covered her burning face with her hands.

beautiful thing in nature has long suggested you to me. Amy, I can wait. You shall have your girlhood. It seems to me now that I have loved you almost from the first hour I saw you. I have known that I loved you ever since that June evening when you left me in the rosery. Have I not proved that I can be patient and wait?"

She only pressed her burning face closer upon his shoulder. "It's all growing clear now," she again whispered. "How blind I've been! I thought you were only my brother."

"I can be 'only your brother' if you so wish," he said, gravely. "Your hap piness is my first thought."

She looked up at him shyly, tears in her eyes, and a smile hovering about her tremulous lips. "I don't think I understood myself any better than I did you. I never had a brother, and-and-I don't believe I love you just right for a brother;" and her face was hidden again.

His eyes went up to heaven, as if he meant that his mating should be recog nized there. Then gently stroking her brown hair, he asked, "Then I sha'n't have to wait, Amy?"

"Am I keeping you waiting, Webb?" she faltered from her deep seclusion.

"Oh, that blessed mistletoe!" cried Webb, lifting the dewy, flower-like face and kissing it again and again. are my Christmas gift, Amy.

"You

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn't know," began Mr. Clifford from the doorway, and was about to make a hasty retreat. "Stay, father," cried Webb. A year ago you received this dear girl as your daughter. She has consented to make the tie closer still if possible."

The old gentleman took Amy in his arms for a moment, and then said, "This is too good to keep to myself for a moment," and he hastened the blushing, laughing girl to his wife, and exclaimed: "See what I've brought you for a Christmas present! See what that sly, silent Webb has been up to! He has been making love to our Amy right under our noses, and we didn't know it."

"You didn't know it, father; mother's eyes are not so blind. Amy darling, I've been hoping and praying for this. You have made a good choice, my dear, if it is his mother that says it. Webb will never change, and he will always be as gentle to you as he has been to me."

"Well, well, well!" said Mr. Clifford. "Our cup is running over, sure enough. Maggie, come here!" he called, as he heard her step in the hall. "Here's a new relative. I once felt a little like grumbling because we hadn't a daughter, and now I have three, and the best and prettiest in the land."

Leonard had long since gone to the depot, and now the chimes of his returning bells announced that Burt and Gertrude To them both it was, in truth,

were near.

a coming home. Gertrude rushed in, followed by the exultant Burt, her brilliant eyes and tropical beauty rendered tenfold more effective by the wintry twilight without; and she received a welcome that accorded with her nature. She was hardly in Amy's room, which she was to share, before she looked in eager scrutiny at her friend. "What's in the air?" she asked. " What has transfigured Webb? Oh, you little wild-flower, you've found out that he is saying his prayers to you at last, have you? Evidently he hasn't said them in vain. You are very happy, dear?"

"Yes; happier than you are."

"I deny that, point-blank. Oh, Amy darling, I was true to you, and didn't lose Burt either."

Maggie had provided a feast, and Leonard beamed on the table and on every one, when something in Webb and Amy's manner caught his attention. "This occasion," he began, "reminds me of a somewhat similar one a year ago to-morrow night. It is my good fortune to bring lovely women into this household. My first and best effort was made when I brought Maggie. Then I picked up a little girl at the depot, and she grew into a tall, lovely creature on the way homedidn't she, Johnnie? And now to-night I've brought in a princess from the snow; and one of these days poor Webb will be captured by a female of the MacStinger type, for he will never muster up courage enough- What on earth are you all laughing about?"

"Thank you," said Amy, looking like a peony.

"You had better put your head under Maggie's wing and subside," Webb added. Then, putting his arm about Amy, he asked, "Is this a female of the MacStinger type?"

Leonard stared in blank amazement. "Well," said he at last, "when did this happen? I give up now. The times