Livingstone drove home through silent streets, but they were not silent for him.

In his ears a chime was still ringing and it bore him far across the snow-filled streets and the snow-filled years to a land of warmth and light.

The glow was still about his heart and the tingle which the pressure of Kitty Clark's arms about his neck, and John Clark's clasp of his hand had started still kept it warm.
At his door Livingstone dismissed his driver and as he cheerily wished him a merry Christmas the man's cheery reply showed that Livingstone had already found the secret of good cheer.
"The same to you, your honor; the same to you, sir," said the driver heartily, as he buttoned up his pocket with a pat of satisfaction.
"We've had a good time to-night, sir, haven't we?
And I wish you many more like it, sir.

And when Christmas comes along next time I hope you'll remember me, for I'll remember you; I've had a little child in that 'ere same horspital.

God took her to Himself twelve years ago.
They're good to 'em there, rich and poor all alike;--and 't isn't every night I can drive 'Santa Claus's partner.'" Livingstone stood and watched the sleigh till it drove out of sight.
Even after it had disappeared around a corner, he still listened to the bells.