"You tell me the story; then I won't have to read it."
"No, my child, I shall not allow you to neglect your opportunities through any weakness on my part. Read it for yourself, and thereafter, the red book will be one of your prized memories of 'Overlea.'"
"Then tell me again about the lady and the willow tree," begged Edna; "that was so funny."
Ben laughed. "I am afraid I don't remember that so well as I do the fox story, but maybe I will think of some more about her. Come, it is time to go in. They may be eating those chicken or turkey sandwiches this very minute."
Hanging on his arm, Edna skipped along to the house to find that it was quite too early to think of sandwiches, though the lamps were lighted in all but the living-room where a cheerful fire made the place light enough. Around the fire sat grandma, Aunt Emmeline, Aunt Alice and Mrs. Conway. Aunt Lucia was upstairs with the babies. Uncle Wilbur was taking a nap, and grandpa and Uncle Bert were out looking after the stock, as Ira and the other man had been allowed a holiday. Over in the corner of the sofa sat Cousin Becky and her lover talking in low tones.
"Dear me," said grandma, as the children all trooped in, "we must have a light; these little folks may not like to sit in the dark."
"This is the best kind of light," declared Ben, "and the very time for telling tales. Let's all sit around the fire and have a good time. We'll begin with the oldest and so on down to the youngest If we don't have time to go all the way down the line, we'll stop when we're hungry. How's that, grandma? Do you like the plan?"
"It is just as the others say, my dear," she answered.
"It's a lovely plan, Ben," said Mrs. Conway. "You will have to begin, mother, and Aunt Emmeline can come next."
"Oh, dear," protested that lady, "I never was one for telling tales; you will have to count me out."