“Sure!” cried Peg. “Anybody’d know you was six, Cap’n, jus’ to look at you! Six, an’ large an’ hefty fer your age. You bet they would! What sort of birthday present did you get for Barb’ry—hey?”
“If you’ll keep the molasses from spillin’ over I’ll show it to you,” offered Jimmy. “It’s a beautiful picture.”
“Wall, now I vow!” exclaimed Peg, when the pink string had been carefully untied and the sparkling Christmas tree exposed to view. “‘I wish you a merry Christmas,’” he read slowly. “Say, that’s great, Cap’n! Mos’ folks fergit all about merry Christmas long before spring. But they hadn’t ought to. Stan’s to reason they hadn’t. They’d ought to be merrier in April ’an in December, ’cause the goin’s better an’ it’s ’nuffsight pleasanter weather. I’ll bet Barb’ry’ll be tickled ha’f to death when she sees that.”
“It sparkles, don’t it, Peg?”
“Mos’ puts my eyes out,” acquiesced the man. “It’s all kin’s an’ colors o’ sparkles. It cert’ly is a neligant present. D’ye want to drive while I do it up fer ye?”
Jimmy took the reins.
“I won’t let ’em run away,” he said gravely.
“Run away?” chuckled Peg. “I’d like to see ’em run away with you a-holt o’ the lines. They wouldn’t das to try it.”
“I s’pose I’ll be able to work the farm before long, Peg,” observed Jimmy, after a short silence, during which he sternly eyed the bobbing heads of the old farm horses. “I’m pretty old now, an’ I’m gettin’ taller every day.”
“H’m!” grumbled Mr. Morrison. “I guess the’ ain’t no ’special hurry ’bout your takin’ charge o’ the farm, Cap’n. Me an Barb’ry’s makin’ out pretty well; an’ you know, Cap’n, you’ve got to go to school quite a spell yet.”