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124 heavy dishes from the shelves to the table, they stayed very close together. It was meagre diet on the pine table,—a few slices of bread, two bowls of steaming oatmeal, and cold water in the clumsy cups that were meant to hold coffee.

As they sat down, Mrs. Sebright thriftily blew out the lamp, and left the room in dusk.

"The sun's rising already," she said.

And indeed it was: through the watery circles in the panes they could see that the mysterious deep blue had gone, and that a gray light was slowly turning into day. They both sat peering through the frosty window.

"Can you see her?" asked his mother.

Marden winced.

"No," he answered. "Not yet. But of course she's still there."

Silence fell once more, while both made a pretense of eating. His mother was the first to speak again.

"It's ten days to Christmas," she said, then paused, and then went on timidly, "Sicily's