It seemed to him he had a friend in it.
Livingstone let himself in noiselessly at his door, but the softness with which he turned the key this time was to keep from disturbing his servants, not to keep them from seeing him.
He stopped stock still on the threshold.

The whole house seemed transformed.

The hall was a bower of holly and mistletoe, and the library, as Livingstone entered it, with its bright fire roaring in the hearth and its festoons and wreaths, seemed once more a charming home: a bower where cheer might yet make its abode.
As quietly, however, as Livingstone had entered, his butler had heard him.
As Livingstone turned to take in all the beauty of the room, James was standing before him.

His face showed some concern, and his voice, as he spoke, had a little tremor in it.
"When we found you had gone out, sir, we were afraid you might be sick, and the cook has got something hot for you ?" Livingstone glanced about to find a phrase with which to thank him for the trouble they had taken; but the butler spared him the pains.
"We thought we would try to make the house look a little cheery, sir.
Hope you don't mind, sir ?" "Mind!" said Livingstone, "I am delighted; and I thank you very much.
Mind?
I should think not!" The tone of his voice and the light in his eye showed that there was a change in him and it acted like a tonic on the butler.

The light came into his eyes too.