VALLEY

CHAPTER XXITHE IMPOSSIBLE WORDJOHN MEREDITH walked meditativelythe clear crispness of a winter night inthroughRainbow-Valley. The hills beyond glistened with the chill,splendid lustre of moonlight on snow. Every little firtree in the long valley sang its own wild song to theharp of wind and frost. His children and the Blythelads and lasses were coasting down the eastern slopeand whizzing over the glassy pond.They were havinga glorious time and their gay voices and gayer laughterechoed up and down the valley, dying awayin elfincadences among the trees. On the right the lightsof Ingleside gleamed through the maple grove withthe genial lure and invitation which seems always toglowin the beacons of a home where we know thereis love and good-cheer and a welcome for all kin,whether of flesh or spirit Mr. Meredith liked verywell on occasion to spend an evening arguing withthe doctor by the drift wood fire, where the famouschina dogs of Ingleside kept ceaseless watch and ward,as became deities of the hearth, but to-night he didnot look that way. Far on the western hillgleamed apaler but more alluring star.216Mr. Meredith was on