Edmund wrote that he had got leave from his regiment, The Royal Canadians, and would spend Christmas with Derek. They had never been separated for so long before and Derek counted the days till he should meet him at the station with his new red sleigh and black bear robes. But winter seemed loath to descend from the low grey skies or to set his foot sharply on the quiescent earth. November was hazy and warm; December was like Indian Summer; on Christmas Eve there had not been a fleck of snow. Derek, in disgust, ordered Gunn to wash the muddy trap, and scrub the bay gelding's sides, for he had seen fit to roll on the muddy bank of the stream.
It seemed that train-time would never come. He looked at his watch every five minutes; he went upstairs twice to inspect Edmund's room. He even wound the grandfather clock in the hope that he might hurry Time along.
At last Gunn's rosy face appeared in the door. "Hadn't we better be gettin' along, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, yes," said Derek, "it must be time."
He and Gunn got into the cart and Phœbe ran ahead to open the gate. Jock snapped at the gelding's legs, and circled the trap with exasperating yelps. They sped quickly along the hard road, for now it seemed that after all the waiting they were a little late. As they passed the graveyard they saw Solomon Sharroe's grave surmounted by the skeleton of the Gates Ajar, a few dead leaves clinging to
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