Mother. 'Twas what Myles said about Mistress Wells and Eaglefeather here. 'Twas because Christmas in my father's home in Old England was the time of all others when people did kind and friendly deeds, when poor folks came to the houses of rich men without fear of being driven away, and our homes were open to all who needed food and warmth.
Prudence [wonderingly]. Why, then, Mother, I think it must have been like heaven!
Nathan. Mother, doesn't thee sometimes wish we were all back in England once more?
Mother [earnestly]. Never wish that, my son.
Myles. Not after all the bitter cold winters and hardships here, Mother?
Mother. 'Tis the very hardships we have endured that will build up a new and better England for us here, Myles—— But the Old Christmas was a happy time.
[Eaglefeather, who has been sleeping, sits
up, and from this point listens intently.
Roger. Won't thee tell us more about it, then?
Mother. I've told thee many times already, Roger, how the great Yule-log was brought in and lighted on Christmas Eve—such a monster log that it would burn until Twelfth Night. We always saved a bit of it, then, to light the next year's log. The old folks said that was for luck. All the young folks went out into the forest to gather the Christmas greens, holly, mistletoe, and long festoons of ground pine for wreaths. Ah, it was merry work, and the great hall in my father's house was a brave sight when we had decked it in the green. And on Christmas day we had our Christmas bough covered with shining candles and bright gifts for each other.
Prudence. How beautiful, Mother!