“An’ Uncle Tim an’ Grandpa Gowin’--they was as spry as crickets, an’ they made old Pete tune up that ‘Money Musk’ three times ’fore they’d quit.”
“Yes; an’--my grief an’ conscience, Samuel! ’tis late, ain’t it?” broke off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock. “Come, come, dear, you’ll have ter hurry ‘bout gettin’ that tree out of the front room ’fore the children get here. I wouldn’t have ’em know for the world how silly we’ve been--not for the world!”
Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible increase of speed.
“Well, I do’ know,” he chuckled.
“‘T wa’n’t anythin’ so awful, after all. But, say,” he called triumphantly a moment later, as he stooped and picked up a small object from the floor, “they will find out if you don’t hide these ’ere pep’mints!”
The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared from the “front room” when Frank arrived.
“Oh, they’re all coming in a minute,” he laughed gayly in response to the surprised questions that greeted him. “And we’ve brought the children, too. You’ll have a houseful, all right!”
A houseful it certainly proved to be, and a lively one, too. In the kitchen “the girls” as usual reigned supreme, and bundled off the little mother to “visit with the boys and the children” during the process of dinner-getting, and after dinner they all gathered around the fireplace for games and stories.
“And now,” said Frank when darkness came and the lamps were lighted, “I’ve got a new game, but it’s a very mysterious game, and you, Father and Mother, must not know a thing about it until it’s all ready.” And forthwith he conducted the little old man and the little old woman out into the kitchen with great ceremony.
“Say, Samuel, seems as if this was ’most as good as the party,” whispered Lydia Ann excitedly, as they waited in the dark. “I know it; an’ they hain’t asked us once if we was gettin’ too tired! Did ye notice, Lyddy Ann?”