Free Substitute Guest by Grace Livingston Hill

Christmas would begin! Lights and the tree and the open fire, good things to eat and loving friends all around! It was going to be wonderful! She was tired, but very happy. And she needn’t worry a bit about driving in the storm, with the snowplow close ahead of her, and Bill Gates to call to for help if anything went wrong. Christmas had begun in her heart already.
    It was slow progress after the snowplow, however, and a bit roundabout, because Bill Gates was obliged to look after certain spots in the borough before he went out on the highway, but eventually they crept out toward the farm, and Ruth, keeping her car close in the wake of the snowplow, and worrying her windshield wiper to make it do a little better with the blurring, driving snow that blinded her way, finally arrived in sight of the glinting colors on the Christmas tree that nobody as yet had thought to turn off. If she had known that a mile and a half ahead of her at that moment Lance and an unknown stranger were struggling along, shoveling their way through a drift higher than their heads, at the worst curve of the road below the mountain trail, she would certainly have plowed ahead herself, no matter what the risk, and tried in some way to help them out. But she didn’t know.
    Bill Gates, however, knew the possibilities of the drifted driveway, and he ran his big plow a little ahead of the Devereaux gate and stopped, jumping off and running back to her as she was about to venture the turn.
    Father Devereaux was out with the coal shovel from the furnace, endeavoring to make the entrance a little safer for her, but Bill Gates wasn’t taking any chances. He made Ruth shove over, and he took the wheel, turning the small car with extreme care and slowly plunging it through the billows of snow that had furrowed themselves up since the storm began. Father Devereaux hurried ahead to open the garage door, but Bill Gates stopped at the kitchen door, and lifting Ruth out bodily before she realized what was happening, he bore her up the steps and set her down at the kitchen door under the porch roof comparatively out of the storm. Then he drove on into the garage and housed the car safely before he hurried back to his snowplow.
    It wasn’t the reception she had hoped for, but she was glad to be here at last. What a terrible storm! How had any of those children got to the church at all? She hoped in passing that they were all safely home. Then she wondered where Lance was and why he hadn’t hurried out to greet her. But of course the storm was so loud he might not have heard her arrive. Still, wouldn’t he have been watching?
    The sleet was biting her face and she tried the door, found her way into the kitchen shed, and so on into kitchen and dining room. Nobody seemed to be around. Had they all gone upstairs? Then suddenly in the dimness of the corner of the dining room she saw Lance’s mother kneeling by the old rocking chair praying quietly.
    She paused a moment startled. She knew that Lance’s mother was a wonderful Christian woman, and took everything to the Lord in prayer, but she sensed an unusual atmosphere. Of course Mrs. Devereaux had not heard her come in. The wind was roaring so around the house that it drowned all but very clear sounds. And darkness was settling down around the house. There was only the soft light from the Christmas tree in the living room. After an instant Ruth went softly by the kneeling figure on into the other room, and then she saw Daryl standing by the window with her face pressed against the pane looking out into the blinding snow. Daryl must be watching for her, and the snow was so thick that she had missed her.
    She stepped over softly and slipped her arm around Daryl’s waist.
    “Daryl, dear!” she whispered. Daryl turned sharply toward her and she saw that there were tears glistening on her cheeks.
    “Why, Daryl, darling! What is the matter?” she said, her heart filled with sudden alarm. “You’ve been crying!