vacuity that the fellow wears. Does he understand?"
"Oh, yes; only he is very patient," replied Edith, who generally took the instructions. "I am sure he will do as you say."
"Well, Kiu, my friend," he continued, turning again to Yen Sung, "let the prosaic but sincere work of the barbarian medicine-man sink into your retentive Oriental mind. Although you are on the mend, you are for that reason to take all the more care. Shun the insidious delight of potato-top burning or any other outdoor exercise until I give you leave to stir. If you go out and get cold or wet you will most certainly join the spirits of your illustrious ancestors."
"It is as the all-seeing Buddha ordains," replied Yen Sung imperturbably, but he quite accepted the warning.
Edith accompanied the doctor to the yard and then returned to the loft.
"I am going to Overbury now," she remarked after she had made up the fire and given a glance round the room. "Is there anything that you would like; anything that I could get you?"
Yen Sung shook his head. There was nothing that he required.
"I am going to buy my Christmas cards," she continued, lingering. "You know what Christmas is, Kiu?"
"The Season of Much Gladness," replied Yen Sung from his couch.
Two pitiful tears formed suddenly in Edith's eyes. "We say 'Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men,'" she said in a low voice.
"Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men," repeated the pagan. Fifty years ago, he was remembering, his father's house had been shelled to the ground by the navies of two most Christian nations at this same season of "Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men" in order that equally
