“ A kettle of molasses was simmering on the stove, and Chi was wielding the corn-popper with truly professional skill before the open fire.
It was such fun to see the hurry, and scurry, and hustle, and rattle, and pop, and sudden white transformation of the heated kernels! A huge, wooden bowl received the contents of the popper, and March salted them. Oh, how good it smelt! And Rose was going to make molasses corn-balls to put aside for the next evening.
"It's just like having a party every night, there are so many of us," said Hazel, clapping her hands in delight. ”

“ Hazel, too, could not sleep at first. It was all so strange, and yet she was so happy. Her thoughts were in New York, and she was already planning for a visit from her father, when suddenly she remembered that she had left the little chatelaine watch he had given her on her last birthday, lying on the settle where May had been playing with it. She must wind it regularly, that was her father's stipulation when he gave it to her. She sprang out of bed, tiptoed to the door, listened; all was still, but not wholly dark. The embers beneath the ashes in the fireplace sent a dull glow into the room. ”

“ Blossom held up her finger; she heard Rose on the stairs. Chi looked up--his old Rose-pose stood before him: old, faded, green and white calico dress, old sunbonnet, patched shoes! Chi turned away abruptly to get his pails; and her mother wondered, but said nothing.
They found more than one "patch," where the berries hung in luscious clusters of shining jet. Chi pummelled his chest, and drew deep, deep breaths of the balsamic mountain air. "This sets a man up, Rose-pose; there ain't nothin' like the air on this Mountain for an all-round tonic. Let's sit here a spell, right by this sweet fern." ”

“ O Chi!" Hazel rose up in the trap at sight of the well-known figure, and Chi, laying his hand firmly on Martin's shoulder, put him aside as he sprang to open the door and let down the steps, reached up both arms, and took Hazel out as tenderly as on the night of her first arrival at the farmhouse on the Mountain. And then and there Hazel gave him a kiss, and Mr. Clyde grasped his hands in both his, and the wide hall doors that Wilkins had thrown open to their fullest extent closed upon the reunited friends. ”

“ Rose hesitated a moment when the children sat down on the rug with their stockings, as was their custom every Christmas morn; then she plumped down among them, saying, laughingly:
"I don't care if I am growing up, Martie--it's Christmas."
Upon which Jack, hugging his striped Balbriggan, sat down beside her.
Such "Ohs" and "Ahs"! Such thankings and squeezings! Such somersaults as were turned by March and Budd at the kitchen end of the long-room! Such rapturous gurgles from May! Such hand-shakes and kisses! ”

“ There was a shout of laughter that caused Cherry to crawl out pretty quickly and open the pantry door,--for it was hard to hear the fun and not be in it.
"Come, Cherry," said her mother, still laughing, and Cherry slipped into her seat beside Doctor Heath with a murmured, "How do you do?" and her face bent so low over her plate that nothing was visible to Hazel but a round head running over with tight red curls that bobbed and trembled in a peculiarly funny way. ”

“ She pressed one hand hard upon her own heart, crushing with the other the dark-stained slip. Then, with one wild look around her as if searching for help, she ran down the steps, across the mowing, over into the pasture and up into the woodlands. Deep, deep into the heart of them she made her way, as her mother, Mary Blossom, had done before her; but now there was no kneeling, no prayer, no petition to take from her the intolerable pain.
She was young, and she loved as the young love. It was not God whom she wanted; it was "Jack! Jack! Jack!" ”

“ She died when Hazel was nine, and it was a lovely memory of "mamma" that Hazel cherished: a vision of loveliness in trailing white silk, or velvet, or lace,--her mother always wore white, it was her Southern inheritance,--with a single dark-red rose among the folds of Venetian point of the bertha; always a gleam of white neck and arms banded with flashing, many-faceted diamonds, or roped with pearls; always a sense of delicious white warmth and fragrance, as the vision bent over her and pressed a light kiss upon her cheek. ”

“ He wore the undress uniform of the volunteer cavalry. When Maria-Ann discovered this, she felt for a moment, to use her own expression, "flustered." The mere presence of the uniform brought to her a realizing sense of the importance of her mission; it seemed to bring her at once into touch with far-away Cuba, and the feminine knights of the Red Cross; with--her heart gave a joyful thump--with Chi! She felt in a way ennobled to be eating her doughnut within speaking distance of a hero (they were all that in Maria-Ann's idealizing imagination) . ”

“ Hazel was the picture of health and fast becoming what Chi had predicted, "an A Number 1" beauty. Her dark eyes sparkled with the joy of life; on her rounded cheeks there was the red of the rose; the skull-cap had been discarded, and a fine crop of soft, silky rings of dark brown hair had taken its place.
"Never, no, never, have I had such good times," she wrote to her Cousin Jack at Newport. "We eat on the porch, and make believe camp out in the woods, and we ride on Bess and Bob all over the Mountain. We've about finished the preserves and jams, and Rose has only burnt herself twice. ”

“ Blossom added her surprise--a delicate blue taffeta skirt to match the waist. Rose went into raptures over it, and sought the best bedroom regularly three times a day to feast her girl's eyes on the silken loveliness as it lay in state on the best bed. A new dark blue serge was to do duty for a street suit, with a plain felt hat. For best, there was a turban made of dark blue velvet to match the wash silk.
"And four pairs of gloves! Martie Blossom, you are an angel, to give me these that Hazel gave you a year ago last Christmas. Have you been keeping them for me all this time?" ”

“ Life in the farmhouse resumed its old course--but with a difference. Just what it was no one attempted to define. But each felt it in his own way. March was more gentle with Budd and Cherry, more often with his mother and Chi, more companionable for his father. Rose was quieter, but, if possible, more loving towards all. Budd was at times wholly disconsolate, and wasted sheets of his best Christmas note-paper in writing letters to Hazel which were never sent. ”

“ Blossom paused for breath, with a glad light in her eyes.
"It sounds too good to be true," said Rose, "and you look as if you had been to a real party, Martie."
"Well, I have, my dear. Just to see such people and such a house is a party for me."
"And you can keep having it, too, can't you, Martie? because they 're going to be neighbors," cried Cherry, every individual curl dancing and bobbing with excitement.
"Is the young man good-looking?" asked Hazel, earnestly.
"Very," replied Mrs. Blossom, smiling.
"As handsome as Jack?" said Hazel. ”

“ In marked contrast to Chi's apparent apathy was Tell's restlessness. Since six o'clock he had shown signs of uneasiness. With strides, heavy and long, the huge beast paced up and down the long-room. Sometimes he followed Mrs. Blossom to the window, and, sitting down on his haunches beside her, rested his nose on the window sill and gazed at the whitened panes. At others he took his stand beside Chi and looked into his face, their eyes meeting on a level as the man sat and the dog stood. ”

“ March waxed eloquent in his desire to convince his mother of the justice of his cause. "And if she hadn't come up here she would n't have got well, and then she would n't have grown so beautiful--and she is beautiful, mother." (Mrs. Blossom nodded assent.) "And I don't see why I have n't just as much right to try to make her love me as any other fellow. You 've told us children, dozens of times, it's just character that counts, and not money, and if I try as hard as I can to keep straight and be a good man like father, I don't see why things would n't be all right in the end." ”

“ Her reappearance in the wash silk and velvet turban was the signal, on March's part, for a burst of applause, and cries of admiration from Budd and Cherry.
"Grand transformation scene!" cried March, as Rose tripped down in the blue taffeta, looking like a very rose herself.
"Beats all!" murmured Chi, who had become nearly speechless with admiration, "what clothes 'll do for a good-lookin' woman; but for a ravin', tearin' beauty like our Rose--George Washin'ton! She 'll open those high-flyers' eyes." ”

“ Early in the evening the stockings were hung up over the fireplace, all sizes and all colors:--May's little red one and Chi's coarse blue one; Mr. Clyde's of thick silk, and Budd's and Tell's of woollen; Hazel's of black cashmere beside Jack's striped Balbriggan. What an array!
Then Mrs. Blossom and May went off into the bedroom, and Mr. Blossom and his guests were forced to smoke their after-tea cigars in the guest bedroom upstairs, while the young people brought out their treasures and stuffed the grown-up stockings till they were painfully distorted. ”

“ Will you hang up your stockings this year and let us children fill them instead of your filling ours? I don't want you to take one cent of the money you are earning by having Hazel here to buy me anything. I want every penny of it to go to pay off that mortgage you told us of--for I feel just as you do about it, and only wish I had known it last Hallow-e'en when I asked for the paints and brushes. It makes me sick just to think of all we asked for, and you not having any money to buy them with--and never telling us! Oh, mother!
Your devoted son, MARCH BLOSSOM.
All-hallow-e'en. ”

“ Aunt Tryphosa and Maria-Ann were not to be outdone in neighborly kindnesses, and, regularly, the willow basket, full to overflowing with snow-white clothes, was returned with something tucked away under the square covering of oil-cloth--a tiny bunch of sage or summer savory, an ironing-holder made of bits of bright calico or woollen rags, a little paper-bag of spruce gum, a pair of woollen wristers for Mr. Blossom or Chi, a new recipe for spring bitters with a sample of the herbs--sassafras, dockroot, thoroughwort, wintergreen, and dandelion--gathered by Aunt Tryphosa herself. ”

“ Such a line of communication as was soon established between Mount Hunger and New York, Mount Hunger and Cambridge, the Lost Nation and Barton's River, Hunger-ford--the Fords' new name for the old Morris farm--and the Blossom homestead on the Mountain!
Uncle Sam's post, the Western Union Telegraph Company, the American Express, a line of freight, saddle horses, sleds, and the old apple-green cart on runners were all pressed into service; in all the United States of America there were no busier young people than those belonging to the Lost Nation. ”