“I own I am curious.” Together they strolled up the street.
“Oh!” Sarah said as they drew nearer. “That’s the print shop. Emily mentioned a new window display for the holidays.”
They waited their turn to step close and look at the “illuminations” in the panes of the print-shop windows. The translucent colored prints had been varnished and lit from behind, causing the scenes to glow with light and life, drawing admirers and shoppers alike.
Sarah recognized the ruins of Tintern Abbey by moonlight, a London street scene, and another depicting fireworks in Green Park to celebrate the Treaty of Paris.
“This is Tintern Abbey.” She pointed to the image. “We stopped there during our journey north.”
He bent to look more closely. As he straightened, another caught his eye. “Ah. And here is the Palace of Holyroodhouse by night.”
Someone had painstakingly cut out dozens of tiny windows, and the light shone through them in a bright, realistic way.
“We visited the palace when we were in Edinburgh,” Sarah said.
“I wish I had been there with ye.”
“So do I.”
When he was silent, she glanced over and found him standing close, looking at her instead of the illuminations.
She swallowed. “Well. The palace looks lovely by lamplight.”
His focus remained on her. “So do you.”
Gratification warmed Sarah’s heart.
He offered her his free arm. “May I walk ye home, miss?”
She smiled softly in reply and laced her arm through his. “You may.”
On St. Thomas Day, Sarah and the others gathered in the hall, waiting for Viola and Jack to come from Westmount in theircarriage. When they arrived, Jack helped Mr. Henshall and Mr. Gwilt carry out the heavier baskets, while the others carried the lighter items. Mamma, however, had decided to stay home and rest. She said she was feeling tired after a poor night’s sleep. Sarah hoped that’s all it was.
Viola and Effie rode in the carriage with the gifts, while Jack, Sarah, Georgie, and Mr. Henshall walked, the Scotsman carrying his guitar case. Thankfully the December day was temperate and sunny, far milder than the bitter cold and heavy snow of the previous winter.
Arriving at the poor house, they all helped carry the gifts inside while Effie held the door.
Miss Reed was no longer in residence, having married Simon Hornbeam, but their dear friend Mrs. Denby was still there, as were two retired fishermen, and a few new residents they had yet to meet.
Viola went around knocking on the residents’ doors to announce their arrival and came back pushing Mrs. Denby in her wheeled chair.
When all had gathered, they passed out gifts to sincere exclamations of appreciation, and Sarah noticed one elderly man discreetly wipe a tear from his eye.
“I don’t suppose you’d care for a song?” Mr. Henshall asked with a lift of his instrument case.
Mrs. Denby answered for them all. “Indeed we would. What a treat!”
He opened his case, and one of the old fishermen asked, “What’s that, then?”
“A Scottishguittar.”
“Never heard ’a one of them. Let’s hear it.”
He led them first in an old Christmas carol sung in the West Country for hundreds of years.
“The first Nowel that the Angel did say
Was to certain poor Shepherds in fields where they lay;
