CHAPTER XXIV.
‘AND PURPLE LIGHT SHONE OVER ALL.’
Christmas was at hand, the first Christmas in Laura’s married life, and to her happy fancy it seemed the most wonderful season that had ever been marked on the calendar of the ages. How could she and John Treverton be thankful enough for the blessings Providence had given them? How could they do enough to make other people happy? About a fortnight before the sacred festival she carried Celia off to Beechampton in the pony carriage, to buy a tremendous stock of blankets and flannel petticoats for the old women, and comfortable homespun coats for the rheumatic old men.
‘Have you any idea as to the amount you are spending, Laura?’ asked the practical Celia.
‘No, dear; but I have one fixed idea, and that is that no one near Hazlehurst shall be cold and wretched this Christmas, if I can help it.’
‘I’m afraid you are encouraging pauperism,’ said Celia.
‘No, Celia; I am waging war against rheumatism.’
‘I hope you don’t expect gratitude.’
‘I only expect the blankets to keep out Jack Frost. And now for the grocer’s.’
She shook the reins gaily, and drove on to the chief grocer of Beechampton, in whose plate-glass windows a pair of tall Japanese jars announced the superior character of the trade transacted inside. Here Mrs. Treverton ordered a hundred parcels of plums, currants, sugar, spice, and candied peel, each parcel containing an ample supply for a family Christmas pudding. The shopman rejoiced as he booked the order, and was eloquent in his praise of ‘our new fruit.’