"Well, Ezra Jonathan," asked his mother, "what are you making a fool of yourself for?"
More winks and shaking of the head this time.
"Well, speak out, Ezra, and don't set there acting like a dumb idiot."
"You see, ma," stammered the boy, still trying the effect of winks, "I thought Santa Claus he wouldn't mind putting the presents on the tree for us if we left 'em all on the what-not where he could see 'em easy."
Stubbins caught at the suggestion. "Oh, thay, ma," he begged, "leth do it, I tell you uth kidth like that old Thanta Clauth. He ith all right. I don't think Chrithmuth would be half tho nithe if he couldn't thee our tree and put thome prethents on it."
"All right," consented Mrs. Mulvaney returning Chinky's wink to the best of her ability. Not being used to winking she had to screw up one corner of her mouth to do it. "Now then, after Mr. Hodgkins has his say, Chinky, I mean Ezra Jonathan, can take the presents off the tree and give 'em to Hannah and she can read out the names and Moses Aaron can carry the presents around and if he stubs his toes and breaks anything, I'll warm his jacket right in front of the company. After that'll come the Christmas dinner."
"Dinner at night?" asked Hannah.
"Yes, dinner at night," was the reply. "That's when we're going to have Chink—Ezra's big turkey. Now ain't you glad you know manners, and ain't you little boys glad you picked blackberries enough to pay for our fine company tablecloth and napkins, and ain't you glad our cellar's full of vegetables we raised ourselves? And think of the currant jelly Hannah made that's awaiting for Christmas."
"We must pick out our tree," Johnnie broke in, "I think that one I showed you kids last night was the best in the whole bunch."
"But I don't," objected Hannah, "it's too tall."