“Well, we are going to hang up our stockings,” said Willie. “I’m going to hang up both of mine, and Wattie says she’s going to hang up both of hers.”
“Dat’s right, honey; an’ if dat ain’t ’nuff’ whirl in an’ hang up a meal-sack. I done bin year tell ’fo’ now ’bout folks what hang up great big bags stidder der stocking. Whedder dey got any mo’ dan t’er folks is mo’ dan I kin tell you.”
“Harbert,” said Wattie, “do you reckon we’ll git anything at all?”
“Oh, I speck so,” said the negro. “I ain’t year talk er you bein’ so mighty bad dis long time. You cuts up scan’lous sometimes, but it’s kaze yo’ buddy dar pesters you.”
This suggestion made Willie so angry that he threatened to go back to the big house and go to bed, and he would have gone but for a remark made by Aunt Crissy—a remark that made him forget his anger.
“Dey tells me,” said Aunt Crissy, in a sub-dued tone, “dat de cows know when Chris’mas come, an’ many’s de time I year my mammy say dat when twelve o’clock come on Chris’mas-eve night, de cows gits down on der knees in de lot an’ stays dat-away some little time. Ef anybody else had er tole me dat I’d a des hooted at um, but, mammy, she say she done seed um do it. I ain’t never seed um do it myse’f, but mammy say she seed um.”
“I bin year talk er dat myse’f,” said Harbert, reverently, “an’ dey tells me dat de cattle gits down an’ prays bekaze dat’s de time when de Lord an’ Saviour wuz born’d.”
“Now, don’t dat beat all!” exclaimed Aunt Crissy. “Ef de dumb creeturs kin say der pra’rs, I dunner what folks ought ter be doin’.”
“An’ dar’s de chickens,” Harbert went on—“look like dey know der’s sump’n up. Dis ve’y night I year de roosters crowin’ fo’ sev’n o’clock. I year tell dat dey crows so soon in sign dat Peter made deniance un his Lord an’ Marster.”
“I speck dat’s so,” said Aunt Crissy.