Una's first Christmas as the chatelaine of Red Apple Farm was a success. She hardly had a moment to herself through the whole day, so busy was she in wrapping presents, and opening them, and preparing the goose. What spicy, delicious smells wafted throughout the house! How fun it was to throw open her door to the doctor and his wife, to Nan and Jerry, to her parents—to welcome them inside and take their wet things, to feed them and laugh with them and to 'tak' a cup of kindness' together. Dr. Blythe nodded approvingly as he watched his newest daughter-in-law fly around the kitchen, getting plates, ladling cups of hot rum punch into silver cups and passing them out.

"What a wonderful wife Una has turned out to be for our boy," he confided in a whisper to his wife.

Anne Blythe smiled—but it was a faraway sort of smile, and there was something akin to cautious concern in her gray-green eyes. Yes—Una seemed happy, and Shirley seemed happy, too—but there was something lacking between the young couple. She noticed that they never shared the secretive, loving glances that she remembered from her own bridehood, and when Shirley's hand came to rest on Una's shoulder as they sat around the piano and sang carols, it lay there hesitantly—uncertainly—as though he were almost afraid that she would shrug it off. Oh! She could not help being a mother, and worrying over things. Shirley might be a man now, in the eyes of the world, but he would always be her own 'little brown boy,' with his tender heart and his sensitive eyes—eyes that showed so plainly what they felt. Now they blazed with love—but Una's eyes did not mirror her husband's. If she loved, she kept it deeper down—if she truly loved at all.

"Of course she loves him," Anne thought to herself. "I shall take another cup of punch and banish my poor, faulty mother's intuition to the outer reaches of my mind."

In the evening they went to church. Una had always loved going to church at night, when it was lit up by candlelight so that the stained glass windows glittered as richly as jewels. The choir's harmonies hung shimmering in the air and the tall, white candle in the center of the Advent wreath gleamed. When the service was over, she and Shirley lingered in the church a while longer, enjoying the magic, holy, mystic spell of that place.

When they went out into the night, the tips of the firs pointed out the northern lights in the sky. They stopped to watch, and Shirley took that opportunity to reach into his pocket and present Una with her Christmas present.

It was a string of milky pearls—real pearls—nothing but real pearls could have held such a luminous light. Una lifted her hair as Shirley fastened the clasp around her neck. He stepped back to admire the pretty picture she made against the snow-covered firs: all pale and dark with a crescent nimbus at her neck. Una saw him gloat over her and for the first time in many months she felt shy with him.

"They are too nice," she blurted, to hide the sudden flush in her cheeks. "And all I got you, Shirley, was a pair of long underwear!"

"A nice, wifely present," he grinned. "I'm more grateful for those long underwear now than I would be for all the furbelows and fripperies in the world right now. It's cold, dear. Let's make for home."

She saw that she had hurt him without meaning to. They tramped along, Una darting little sidelong glances up at his impassive face. Oh, he still thought she might grow to love him! When she knew she never could. She had the sudden feeling that she had committed a grave sin in marrying Shirley. He tried so hard to make her happy, and he would never be happy himself. Because she could not love him. Had she killed all chance of happiness for him? She did not like to think that. Shirley deserved a sweet and happy life. He deserved a loving, laughing wife, and little, curly-haired children sitting upon his knee.

Red Apple Farm was rosy and lighted, waiting for them. Una felt selfish as she looked up at the house. Shirley had given her this house—this home—this new and useful life. And she had given him so little! Suddenly she wanted to give him something—something! As they stood in the circle of light on the porch, she lifted her face and dropped a quick, fleeting kiss upon his lips. How much it cost her to give that kiss! And how much more he wanted from her yet! She could see it in his eyes.

Una felt very tired as she climbed the stairs to her little room.

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They spent the last night of the old year quietly by the hearth, taking turns reading from a curious book that Shirley had found some where—it was full of trivia and remarkable facts that made them laugh together. Una got a supper of cold ham and potatoes and they roasted chestnuts in the fire for dessert.

At midnight, they went to the door together, to welcome the new year in. The funny clock on the mantel chimed twelve times, and the sound hung in the air like a scent. Una could not sleep that night, and so she was awake to hear the clock chime one—and two—and three.

At four o'clock in the morning, she rose from her bed, and went to the window and looked out. The night was as still as a bell that has finished ringing, and clear. There were hundreds—thousands—of stars in the sky overhead. Una leaned her arms on the window sill and watched as one fell, streaking a sparkling path toward the sea. She recalled something she had heard someone say, once, when she had been a child back in Maywater: when a star falls from the sky, something is bound to happen. Whether that 'something' was supposed to be good or bad she did not remember—perhaps it had not been said.

She lingered there at the window until the first faint pink strains of dawn touched the eastern horizon. Then Una roused herself. How lazy she was, sitting up all night! Shirley would be getting up soon, and she must get some sleep if she was to get his breakfast. Una thought that she could sleep now—the restless feeling had gone out of her. She climbed into bed, feeling very tired indeed. All the same, it had been nice to welcome in the dawn of the first day of the new year. She was glad she had done it.

"I wonder what these days ahead will hold for us," was her last thought before she slept.