sleep. So I have climbed up into my cupola. I have been sitting looking up at the stars. They are very bright to-night. There are millions shining.
I can see most all the houses in Hilton from my eyrie. They are dark now. It is after twelve. But there are two windows aglow. I can see them shining, side by side like eyes, through the bare limbs of our apple orchard. They are western windows, in a white house, and eight hours ago the setting sun shone into them, upon Dr. Maynard in his riding clothes. I wonder what he is doing so late.
It's a lovely night—cold, clear and so still. I'd like to walk twenty miles before morning. I'd like to fly a thousand.
O Father, I don't know why it is—it doesn't seem right, for the awful shadow is still over our house and Alec hasn't smiled all day—but this—oh, this is my happiest Christmas too!
