They had a jolly New Year 's Eve , and Miss Monroe sparkled and entertained most brilliantly . They kept their celebration up until twelve to welcome the new year in , and then they bade Ida good night . But Miss Monroe lingered for a moment behind the others to say softly : `` I want to tell you how good and sweet I think it was of you to give up your cake to the other Ida . That little bit of unselfishness was a good guerdon for your new year . '' And Ida , radiant-faced at this praise from her idol , answered heartily : `` I 'm afraid I 'm anything but unselfish , Miss Monroe . But I mean to try to be more this coming year and think a little about the girls outside of my own little set who may be lonely or discouraged . The other Ida Mitchell is n't going to have to depend on that fruit cake alone for comfort and encouragement for the next twelve months . '' In the Old Valley The man halted on the crest of the hill and looked sombrely down into the long valley below . It was evening , and although the hills around him were still in the light the valley was already filled with kindly , placid shadows . A wind that blew across it from the misty blue sea beyond was making wild music in the rugged firs above his head as he stood in an angle of the weather-grey longer fence , knee-deep in bracken . It had been by these firs he had halted twenty years ago , turning for one last glance at the valley below , the home valley which he had never seen since . But then the firs had been little more than vigorous young saplings ; they were tall , gnarled trees now , with lichened trunks , and their lower boughs were dead . But high up their tops were green and caught the saffron light of the west . He remembered that when a boy he had thought there was nothing more beautiful than the evening sunshine falling athwart the dark green fir boughs on the hills . As he listened to the swish and murmur of the wind , the earth-old tune with the power to carry the soul back to the dawn of time , the years fell away from him and he forgot much , remembering more . He knew now that there had always been a longing in his heart to hear the wind-chant in the firs . He had called that longing by other names , but he knew it now for what it was when , hearing , he was satisfied . He was a tall man with iron-grey hair and the face of a conqueror -- strong , pitiless , unswerving . Eagle eyes , quick to discern and unfaltering to pursue ; jaw square and intrepid ; mouth formed to keep secrets and cajole men to his will -- a face that hid much and revealed little . It told of power and intellect , but the soul of the man was a hidden thing .
Not in the arena where he had fought and triumphed , giving fierce blow for blow , was it XXXXX be shown ; but here , looking down on the homeland , with the strength of the hills about him , it rose dominantly and claimed its own .
As across around behind for in that to until with