"I hope they won't wake my sleeping family, or there will be a premature feeling in stockings. These self-same 'waits' woke me at midnight when I was six years old. I felt in my stocking, though I knew I ought not to do so until morning. I drew out something which rattled deliciously in the darkness. A little round box, filled with 'hundreds and thousands.' Do you know those tiny, coloured goodies? I poured them into my eager little palm. I clapped it to my mouth, as I sat up in my cot, in the dark. I shall never forget that first scrunch. They were mixed beads!
"Moral....
"No, you will draw a better moral than I. My morals usually work out the wrong way.
"I must finish this letter on Boxing-day. Christmas-day will be very full, with a Christmas-tree and all sorts of plans for these little children of other people.
"Well the mail does not go until the 26th, and I shall like to have written to you on our three special days—Christmas-eve, Christmas-day, and Boxing-day.
"Good-night, David."