With so many trees to choose from, it certainly seemed probable that the Black-Crane household would have at least one respectable specimen to decorate; but half an hour later, when the three ordered balsams arrived, both Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were greatly disappointed. The trees had shrunk from twelve to six feet, and the uneven branches were thin and sparsely covered.
"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "all three of those trees together wouldn't make a whole tree."
"They look," said Mrs. Crane, "as if they were shedding their feathers."
"Most of them," agreed Mr. Black, "have already been shed. I said, Mr. Man, that I wanted good trees."
"My wagon broke down," explained the tree-man, "so I couldn't bring anything that I couldn't haul on a big sled. They weigh a lot, those big fellows."
"Can't you make a special trip," suggested Mrs. Crane, "and bring us a first-class tree—just one?"
"It's too late. I have to go too far before I'm allowed to cut any."
"Well," said Mr. Black, "I'll pay you for these, and I'll give you fifty cents extra to haul them off the premises. We don't want any such sorrowful specimens round here to cast a gloom over our Christmas, do we, Sarah?"
"Peter," announced Mrs. Crane, when the man had departed with his scraggly trees, "I have an idea. The weather's likely to stay mild for another twenty-four hours, isn't it?"