The Misfit Christmas Puddings
Sixth Episode
WIDOW M'CARTY'S ABODE EIGHT O'CLOCK CHRISTMAS EVE
EVERY ill known or imagined by the pessimistic Granny had been voiced in graphic predictions, but at last even her vocabulary of grumblings was exhausted, and she hobbled off to her pallet,—the thump, thump, thump of her cane beating a resentful retreat.
Grandad still sat in his corner, and Bridget left her uncomfortable seat and dropped into Granny's vacant chair.
"Sure, it ain't much like Christmas Eve I'm thinkin'," she said, glancing at Grandad. "There's the difference in the look of things since Mike, me darling, is gone—him that always went into town, when he stayed home the day before Christmas, to buy presents for me an' the childer. I remimber, yes, I do, 'cause I aint forgot it yet, the elligant bonnit he bought me wanst. What with feathers standing this way an' that, I was the fine lady of all Fifth Street."