It was their unwritten law to form a fireside circle on Christmas Eve and tell each other what the year had brought them of good and ill , sorrow and joy . The circle was smaller by one than it had been the year before , but none spoke of that . There was a smile on every face and happiness in every voice . The father and mother sat in the centre , grey-haired and placid , their fine old faces written over with the history of gracious lives . Beside the mother , Doctor Fritz sat like a boy , on the floor , with his massive head , grey as his father 's , on her lap , and one of his smooth , muscular hands , that were as tender as a woman 's at the operating table , clasped in hers . Next to him sat sweet Nora , the twenty-year-old `` baby , '' who taught in a city school ; the rosy firelight gleamed lovingly over her girlish beauty of burnished brown hair , dreamy blue eyes , and soft , virginal curves of cheek and throat . Doctor Fritz 's spare arm was about her , but Nora 's own hands were clasped over her knee , and on one of them sparkled a diamond that had not been there at the last Christmas reunion . Laddie , who figured as Archibald only in the family Bible , sat close to the inglenook -- a handsome young fellow with a daring brow and rollicking eyes . On the other side sat Margaret , hand in hand with her father , a woman whose gracious sweetness of nature enveloped her as a garment ; and Robert 's two laughing boys filled up the circle , looking so much alike that it was hard to say which was Cecil and which was Sid . Margaret 's husband and Fritz 's wife were playing games with the children in the parlour , whence shrieks of merriment drifted out into the hall . Nanny might have been with them had she chosen , but she preferred to sit alone in the darkest corner of the hall and gaze with jealous , unhappy eyes at the mirthful group about the fire , listening to their story and jest and laughter with unavailing protest in her heart . Oh , how could they have forgotten so soon ? It was not yet a full year since Miss Avis had gone . Last Christmas Eve she had sat there , a sweet and saintly presence , in the inglenook , more , so it had almost seemed , the centre of the home circle than the father and mother ; and now the December stars were shining over her grave , and not one of that heedless group remembered her ; not once was her name spoken ; even her old dog had forgotten her -- he sat with his nose in Margaret 's lap , blinking with drowsy , aged contentment at the fire . `` Oh , I ca n't bear it ! '' whispered Nanny , under cover of the hearty laughter which greeted a story Doctor Fritz had been telling . She slipped out into the kitchen , put on her hood and cloak , and took from a box under the table a little wreath of holly . She had made it out of the bits left over from the decorations . Miss Avis had loved holly ; Miss Avis had loved every green , growing thing . As Nanny opened the kitchen door something cold touched her hand , and there stood the old dog , wagging his tail and looking up at her with wistful eyes , mutely pleading to be taken , too .
`` So you do remember her , Gyppy , '' said XXXXX , patting his head .
Archibald Cecil Fritz Nanny Nora Sid centre fire shrieks twenty-year-old