`` Well , you 're welcome to it , '' said Felicity . `` I do n't understand and I do n't want to . I would n't give anybody a Christmas present that was n't new , and I would n't thank anybody who gave me one . '' Peter was in the seventh heaven because Felicity had given him a present -- and , moreover , one that she had made herself . It was a bookmark of perforated cardboard , with a gorgeous red and yellow worsted goblet worked on it , and below , in green letters , the solemn warning , `` Touch Not The Cup . '' As Peter was not addicted to habits of intemperance , not even to looking on dandelion wine when it was pale yellow , we did not exactly see why Felicity should have selected such a device . But Peter was perfectly satisfied , so nobody cast any blight on his happiness by carping criticism . Later on Felicity told me she had worked the bookmark for him because his father used to drink before he ran away . `` I thought Peter ought to be warned in time , '' she said . Even Pat had a ribbon of blue , which he clawed off and lost half an hour after it was tied on him . Pat did not care for vain adornments of the body . We had a glorious Christmas dinner , fit for the halls of Lucullus , and ate far more than was good for us , none daring to make us afraid on that one day of the year . And in the evening -- oh , rapture and delight ! -- we went to Kitty Marr 's party . It was a fine December evening ; the sharp air of morning had mellowed until it was as mild as autumn . There had been no snow , and the long fields , sloping down from the homestead , were brown and mellow . A weird , dreamy stillness had fallen on the purple earth , the dark fir woods , the valley rims , the sere meadows . Nature seemed to have folded satisfied hands to rest , knowing that her long wintry slumber was coming upon her . At first , when the invitations to the party had come , Aunt Janet had said we could not go ; but Uncle Alec interceded in our favour , perhaps influenced thereto by Cecily 's wistful eyes . If Uncle Alec had a favourite among his children it was Cecily , and he had grown even more indulgent towards her of late .
Now and then I saw him looking at her intently , and , following his eyes and thought , I had , somehow , seen that Cecily was paler and thinner than she had been XXXXX the summer , and that her soft eyes seemed larger , and that over her little face in moments of repose there was a certain languor and weariness that made it very sweet and pathetic .
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