"I think that will be all very well, Reuben, so that you don't take too much of that same egg-nog and apple toddy," replied Mrs. Gray.
"Now, Hannah, did you ever know me to do such a thing?" inquired Reuben, with an injured air.
"No, Reuben, I never did. But I think that a man that even so much as touches spiritable likkers is never safe until he is in his grave," said Mrs. Gray solemnly.
"Where he can never get no more," sighed Reuben; and as he had to attend the market to sell his turkeys that night, he left Hannah and went to put his horses to the wagon.
So fine a trade did Reuben drive with his fat turkeys that he came home at ten with an empty wagon and full pocketbook, and told Hannah that she might have a new black silk "gownd," and Sally should have a red calico "un," and as for the children, they should have an outfit from head to foot.
Christmas morning dawned gloriously. All the little Middleton's were made happy by the fruit of the Christmas tree. In the many kind interchanges of gifts Ishmael was not entirely forgotten. Some loving heart had remembered him. Some skillful hand had worked for him. When he went up to his room after breakfast on Christmas morning, he saw upon his dressing table a packet directed to himself. On opening it he found a fine pocket-handkerchief neatly hemmed and marked, a pair of nice gloves, a pair of home-knit socks, and a pair of embroidered slippers. Here was no useless fancy trumpery; all were useful articles; and in the old-fashioned, housewifely present Ishmael recognized the thoughtful heart and careful hand of Bee, and grateful, affectionate tears filled his eyes. He went below stairs to a back parlor, where he felt sure he should find Bee presiding over the indoor amusements of her younger brothers and sisters.
And, sure enough, there the pretty little motherly maiden was among the children.
Ishmael went straight up to her, saying, in fervent tones:
"I thank you, Bee; I thank you for remembering me."
"Why, who should remember you if not I, Ishmael? Are you not like one of ourselves? And should I forget you any sooner than I should forget Walter, or James, or John?" said Bee, with a pleasant smile.