When the Yule Log Burns | Page 4

hose and silver buckles--he was by far the most gorgeous figure of
them all!
"I," said the doctor presently, striking the burning Yule-log until the
golden sparks flew out, "I charge thee, log, to burn out old wrongs and
heart-burnings!" and then, in accordance with a cherished custom of his
father's he followed the words with a wish for the good of his
household.
"And I," said old Asher as he struck the log, "I wish for the good of the
horses and cows and all the other live things and," with a terrific
chuckle of mystery, "I wish for things aplenty this night."
"And I," said old Annie, with a terrible look at her imprudent spouse as
she took the poker, "I wish for the harvest--and wit for them that lack
it!"
But Roger had the poker now, his black eyes starry.

"I--I wish for more kind hearts like Aunt Ellen's and the Doctor's," he
burst forth with a strangled sob as the sparks showered gold, "for
more--more sisters like Sister Madge--" his voice quivered and
broke--"and for--for all boys who cannot walk and run--" but Sister
Madge's arm was already around his shoulders and the old Doctor was
patting his arm--wherefore he smiled bravely up at them through
glistening tears.
"Now, now, now, little lad!" reminded the Doctor, "it's Christmas eve!"
Whereupon he drew a chair to the fire and began a wonderful
Christmas tale about St. Boniface and Thunder Oak and the first
Christmas tree. A wonderful old Doctor this--reflected Roger
wonderingly. He knew so many different things--how to scare away
tears and all about mistletoe and Druids, and still another story about a
fir tree which Roger opined respectfully was nothing like so good as
Sister Madge's story of the Cedar King who stood outside his window.
"Very likely not!" admitted the Doctor gravely.
"I've nothing like the respect for Mr. Hans Andersen myself that I have
for Sister Madge."
"I thought," ventured Roger shyly, slipping his hand suddenly into the
Doctor's, "that Doctors only knew how to cure folks!"
"Bless your heart, laddie," exclaimed the Doctor, considerably
staggered; "they know too little of that, I fear. My conscience!" as the
grandfather's clock came into the conversation with a throaty boom,
"it's half-past seven!" and from then on Roger noticed the Doctor was
uneasy, presently opining, with a prodigious "Hum!" that Aunt Ellen
looked mighty pale and tired and that he for one calculated a little
sleigh ride would brace her up for the party. This Aunt Ellen
immediately flouted and the Doctor was eventually forced to pathetic
and frequent reference to his own great need of air.
"Very well, my dear," said Aunt Ellen mildly, striving politely to
conceal her opinion of his mental health, "I'll go, since you feel so
strongly about it, but a sleigh ride in such a wind and such clothes

when one is expecting party guests--" but the relieved Doctor was
already bundling the brown-gold brocade into a fur-lined coat and
furtively winking at Roger! Thus it was that even as the Doctor's sleigh
flew merrily by the Deacon's pond, far across the snowy fields to the
north gleamed the lights of the 7:52 rushing noisily into the village.

III
By the Fire
How it was that the old Doctor somehow lost his way on roads he had
traveled since boyhood was a matter of exceeding mystery and
annoyance to Aunt Ellen, but lose it he did. By the time he found it and
jogged frantically back home, the old house was already aswarm with
masked, mysterious guests and old Asher with a lantern was peering
excitedly up the road. Holly-trimmed sleighs full of merry neighbors in
disguise were dashing gaily up--and in the midst of all the excitement
the Doctor miraculously discovered his own mask and Aunt Ellen's in
the pocket of his great-coat. So hospitable Aunt Ellen, considerably
perturbed that so many of her guests had arrived in her absence--an
absence carefully planned by the Doctor--betook herself to the
masquerade, and the Christmas party began with bandits and minstrels
and jesters and all sorts of queer folk flitting gaily about the house.
They paid gallant court to Roger in his great chair by the fire and
presently began to present for his approval an impromptu Mummer's
play.
And now the lights were all out and a masked and courtly old
gentleman in satin breeches was standing in the bright firelight pouring
brandy into a giant bowl of raisins; and now he was gallantly bowing to
Roger himself who was plainly expected to assist with a lighted match.
He did this with trembling fingers and eyes so big and black and
eloquent that the Doctor cleared his throat; and as the leaping flames
from the snapdragon bowl flashed weirdly over