After breakfast, came the unpacking of the Texas box; a box with something in it for everyone; bright-colored Mexican serapes, some of Benita’s fine drawn work—at sight of which Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda exclaimed delightedly; there were jars of highly spiced Mexican conserves, which Blue Bonnet rejoiced over; a tin box of Lisa’s best pinochie; and down at the bottom were eight wonderfully fringed and trimmed Mexican saddle blankets—one for each of the “We are Seven’s” and Alec, and there was even a cleverly-wrought leather leash for Solomon.
“Isn’t it the nicest Christmas!” Blue Bonnet cried, her lap full of treasures. “There’s Alec! I’ll give him his blanket right away! I reckon he’s come to take me skating—I sha’n’t have to borrow skates now.”
“But dear,” Mrs. Clyde laid a detaining hand on her arm, “there will not be time for skating before church.”
“Are we going to church—on Christmas?” Blue Bonnet looked rather blank.
“Isn’t that the time of all others to go, dear; to return thanks for the greatest Gift of all—on His own day?”
Blue Bonnet’s eyes deepened. “I’ll be ready on time,” she promised, and ran to welcome Alec.
“Oh, I say!” he cried, as she gave him his saddle blanket, “how uncommonly jolly in them to remember me! And I’ve come to say thank you for something else, too.”
“Alec, are you going to church?” Blue Bonnet asked, as they went out to the dining-room to examine the skates and other presents.
He nodded. “But we can go skating after dinner—the pond’s in fine condition. Boyd’s coming too—between us we’ll get you taught in no time.”
It was a typical New England winter’s day, all white and blue; even in the sun, it was necessary to move pretty briskly if one wanted to keep warm.