ON the morning of the day before Christmas Sam awoke unusually early, and jumped out of bed so soon as his eyes were fully open.
“I must hurry as fast as I can,” he said to Mary, “for I shall be awfully busy all day;” and while he was dressing he talked about the presents he was to give. “And the best of all is the present I am going to have myself,” he added. “I suppose you know what that is.”
“Is it the little dog-cart for your pony it is?” asked Mary.
“No, indeed it is not!” exclaimed Sam, contemptuously. “It is something ever and ever so much better than that. Just think, poor Billy is going to see, and I sha’n’t have to lend him my eyes any more.”
“Won’t that be nice!” said Mary; but his grandpapa from the door of his dressing-room heard Sam’s words with a heavy heart.
“What shall we do about it?” he asked Grandmamma when he had repeated their little grandson’s words. “I think we ought to explain about the operation that Billy must undergo; but we have let him think so long that Billy will see by Christmas he will take it very hard. I thought the boy would be all right by Christmas time, and I wanted Sam to be spared the pain of knowing what poor Billy would have to go through.”
“I thought so, too,” replied Grandmamma, “and I don’t like to disturb Sam’s innocent faith. I don’t know how he will take it.”
At this point in burst Sam, full of excitement.
“I shall have to hustle around to get through before night,” he said in his decided way. “We shall have to start right after breakfast to get the wreaths and things to hang up, sha’n’t we, Grandmamma? And we mustn’t forget to bring some for Billy, too, you know.”