The grays and browns of November were gone. Overnight, the world had been transformed. Green Gables awoke on the first morning in December to the muffled stillness of the first, gentle snowfall. Bertha sat in her nightgown and watched the snowflakes tumbling over themselves in their hurry to cover the world in white. She kept matins at the window until the first glow of sunrise was seen along the eastern shore. When Teddy awoke, his twin was sitting on his bed with a gleeful look.

"Christmas is coming!" she cried.

"It comes every year," said Teddy matter-of-factly. Bertha thought again that it was really a pity Teddy had inherited so much of the Wright prose.

"Yes – but this Christmas has never come before," she told him. "Oh, Teddy, it's such a magical time of year – even war Christmases are – even though we can't have sugar and coffee and presents galore. There's something inherently magical in the season. Even Green Gables seems more green and gable-y during the holidays."

The whole world seemed festive. At school they read A Christmas Carol in English class, Bertha thrilling to her toes when poor Mr. Scrooge was visited by the specters. Everyone was full of secret plans and doors were quickly closed and packages rushed out of sight when someone came into a room. Master Giacomo gave up on La Belle Helene for the time being, and he and Bertha worked on the Christmas parts of The Messiah.Teddy practiced carols on his violin, and they all sang together while roasting chestnuts in the apple-wood fire.

Bertha tramped down to the Haunted Wood one day and returned with armfuls of spruce and ivy, which she wound liberally around the banisters and placed on every flat surface in the house. Big striped bows were tied to the railings and a wreath of red berries hung on the door. Bertha disdained the old tradition of mistletoe, but delighted in the fact that a short, white candle was placed in every window of Green Gables that faced the road.

"So that everyone going past will have a Christmassy feeling," she gloated.

Even the war news seemed to come at an easier pace. What would later be known as Operation Compass had begun close to the Holy Land. Tibruk fell to the British in the first days of the month – they all held their breath as the Allies began their march from Sidi Barrani to El-Agheila and thanked God each day that the mighty army surged ahead.

"It's no coincidence that our 'Christmas victory' will come in the very land that Christ was born," said Mr. Wright, and Bertha, dimpling, quoted a stanza she had sung that afternoon,

"The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: and they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined."

"Thank goodness Christmas spirit can't be rationed," said Mrs. Wright.

It was Green Gables' turn to host the family dinner – last year they had been at Orchard Slope – the year before that at Lone Willow Farm – and before that at Ingleside. "Then I was just a child," said Bertha seriously. "Oh, Mother – this is going to be my first grown up Christmas at Green Gables and I want to help you as much as possible. I have so many plans. We haven't enough sugar for tea-cakes but Rose Gillis gave me the dearest recipe for something called 'barm brack' that doesn't need sugar at all! And you hide little trinkets in it, with ribbons, and people pull them out and make a wish! I've already started embroidering little snowflakes on our napkins – when I'm not doing my Red Cross sewing, that is – and oh, won't you let me decorate the table with a cloud of blue spruce, Mother? It has such a delicious scent – and can't there be sprigs of holly at every plate?"

"As long as you leave room enough for everyone to eat, darling."

There was only one dark spot on the festivity. Dorothy moped – Dorothy, who never really moped – it couldn't be called actual moping. But she was low. It was Georgie's first Christmas away from home. Bertha loved Georgie, of course. She had burned with patriotic fever when she found out he was to go – cried when they waved him off at the Bright River station – but as soon as he was gone it was as if he had been gone always. It was just that Georgie was so quiet, and always on the edges of things, and to tell the truth, Bertha's dreamy young soul could not quite understand his prosaic stolidity. Dorothy, however, was devoted to him.

"And oh, Birdie, it will be so hard to see his empty place at the table."

Bertha said as much to her mother, who remarked,

"I've been thinking about that – Bertha, how would you like to invite Master Giacomo to eat some of our goose?"

"Mother, do you mean it? Oh, Doss, we'll have a full table this year even if Georgie can't be with us! And Aunt Cordy will have a fit. She'll be shocked – she doesn't think an Italian can possibly be a good Christian. Won't my fine Cordelia be surprised to see him eating Christmas supper at our table?"

"Is he a Christian though, Birdie? He never goes to church…"

"Doss! Don't get all Aunt Cordy-ish on me. That would ruin the season completely."

An invitation was duly issued and to their surprise, Master Giacomo accepted. But then Aunt Cordy did catch wind of it and caused such a ruckus that Mrs. Wright went into a temper! Mother, Bertha thought, simply amazed – Mother, who was the kindest, gentlest person alive! In a temper!

"You may stay home alone at Orchard Slope, then, Cordelia," said Mrs. Wright coldly, after Aunt Cordy had voiced her grumblings. "And for one who goes on ­– so – about Christian decency, you are certainly forgetting the first tenet of the good book – love thy neighbor."

"We're not neighbors exactly," protested Aunt Cordelia.

"Cross lots is close enough," Mother pointed out. "And anyway, the Bible doesn't make a distinction."

"Have you forgotten our Georgie is fighting them Italians?"

"The Germans, actually," said her brother casually, from behind his news-paper.

"He's not fighting Master Giacomo," his wife said. "We'll miss you, but if you simply won't eat your goose with him, it can't be helped."

Aunt Cordy had not expected little "Di Blythe," as she still thought of her brother's wife, to stand so firm. It was the Shirley stubbornness, she thought. She hemmed and hawed and finally, grudgingly, consented to attend. Mrs. Wright winked with the side of her face that was near Bertha and Teddy, and kept the rest of it calm and composed. She had known that Cordelia would give in, when all was said and done.

"What a terror she must have been as a sister!" said Diana to Jack, as Aunt Cordy made her way home through the frosty night air.

"You're telling me," said her husband, as they stood together in the warm lamplight and waved Aunt Cordy off.

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A week before Christmas, a brown paper package came in the post for Bertha.

"Is it from your friend in Boston?" asked Mrs. Wright kindly.

"Open it!" cried Dorothy and Martha, who had come home from school with the twins.

Bertha unwrapped the paper with hands trembling from excitement. There was a letter folded in with the parcel, a letter on onion-thin paper, written not in Jordan's familiar hand, but the spidery script of the very old, wavery from lack of use.

Dear Miss Wright, it read,

I have not forgotten that you have given me something very precious and I will not forget it until my dying day. And in return I wanted to send you something precious of your own. These earrings and this necklace belonged to my sister, Hester Gray. They belonged to our mother and she wore them when she was married and nearly every day after that. How many times did I see her working in her dear garden with these very jewels on! When Hester died, they passed to me, and now they are yours. I suppose I could keep them but pearls are for the young and make me feel old. And I want you to know how truly grateful I am, indeed,

Your friend

VIRGINIA GRAY.

"It's something from Grand! The famous Grand, Jordan wrote to me about her!"

Bertha tore open the parcel and there, gleaming against velvet, were the milkiest pearl earrings, set in heavy dully-luminous gold, with a string of pearls and a filigree clasp. They had about them the aura of jewels that have always been worn lovingly by very beautiful women. Bertha clasped the pearls around her slim white throat and clipped the earrings on her lovely ears, where they shone with radiant luster against her red hair.

The moment she put them on she felt like another person entirely. She had never had any nice jewelry to wear besides a silver bangle bracelet given to her by Grandmother Wright. The weight of the pearls round her throat seemed to rest comfortably on her flighty young soul and mellow it. She turned to face her audience and Dorothy clapped her hands together.

"Oh, Birdie! You look simply lovely."

"They suit you," said Martha, with a critical air.

"It's – too much of a gift," said Bertha softly, through smiling lips. "I can't keep them – can I, Mother?"

"I think it would be rude to return them," said Mrs. Wright. "After all, Mrs. Gray wanted you to have them, Bertha. But you must write her a thank-you note."

"Of course!" cried Bertha, and ran to her room to do it. "And I'll write Jordan too – and tell him how pleased I am. What a wonderful present!"

"Be sure to tell him that they suit you," called Martha, as Bertha whirled up the stairs in a fervor of delight.

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Bertha wore the pearls with her Christmas dress – a pretty brown tafty dress, with cream cotton lace at the collar and cuffs. It was a present from Mother and Dad – the little gold buckle shoes – with heels, albeit low ones, were from Auntie Nan. Bertha waved a kiss in the direction of what she reckoned to be Glen St. Mary every time she looked down and saw them on her feet. She had a set of music books from Grandmother and Grandfather Blythe – a recording of Pinafore from Grandmother and Grandfather Wright – and a pound of chocolate coins in her stocking from Teddy. Doss had given her a set of lovely lavender stationery and a roll of stamps. Aunt Cordy had given her a little silver wallet with her initials on it, which was an uncharacteristic present, and which Bertha loved.

"But the best present will be if Aunt Cordy behaves herself while Master Giacomo is here," said Bertha doubtfully. She had her doubts. Just minutes ago Aunt Cordy had said,

"When is the furriner going to get here? I do hope he'll be dressed appropriately."

Master Giacomo had a terrible habit of wearing patched pants and shirts with frayed cuffs, but today, miraculously, he was wearing a black suit that Bertha had never seen before – a black suit with tails! – and a starched shirt and bowtie. His hair was slicked back and he had shiny patent shoes on his feet. He looked as if he would pick up his baton at any moment and begin to conduct an invisible orchestra. He clicked his heels together and bowed to Mrs. Wright, and then did the same to Aunt Polly and Aunt Cordy.

"It's lovely to see you," said Mr. Wright. "Won't you sit down?"

They had a lovely dinner. Aunt Cordy did not say anything objectionable. But then, Aunt Cordy made a point of not saying anything at all. Perhaps Master Giacomo felt it too, for when they had eaten the last of the goose, he stood and said,

"How good – it is so good of you to have me to your house. And now I have a present for you."

"You don't need to give us anything," said Mrs. Wright. "Simply having you here is enough, Mr. Giacomo."

"Nonsense!" he cried. "I will sing for you. Testa Rossa, you will play for me. Come."

Bertha took her place at the piano and began to play the opening chords of the music that Master Giacomo had given her. At the sound of the familiar strains tears jumped into her eyes, and Master Giacomo began to sing, in a high, bright tenor,

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and the government shall be upon His shoulder…

Bertha looked out over their rapt faces in the firelight as Master Giacomo sang,

His name shall be called Wonderful! Counsellor! the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.

His voice rose higher and higher and all around them – it dipped low and confidentially – it rang out with the joy of that first Christmas morning – it soared with triumph. Master Giacomo sang the last note, Bertha played the last chord, and then they began to clap, one by one, even Aunt Cordy – Aunt Polly putting her hands together so fast her chins wobbled – Grandmother Wright smiling her gentle smile and even Mr. Wright with tears in his eyes. Mrs. Wright rose to her feet and crossed the room quickly to drop a kiss on Master Giacomo's wrinkled cheek.

"I can't think of a better present," she said, putting her hand in his. "Thank you."

Master Giacomo clicked his heels together again, bowed, and was gone.

"I suppose you must admit he's a Christian now, Aunt Cordy?" asked Bertha with a saucy toss of her head.

"Of a sort," was Aunt Cordy's remark.

"All in all, have you enjoyed your Christmas?" asked Mrs. Wright, when she and Bertha were washing the supper dishes.

Bertha fingered the strand of pearls at her throat and thought back to Master Giacomo's lovely voice, rising and soaring like a living thing.

"All in all – it's been delightful," she said.

"