I wish my little readers could see Lily and Rose, and how merrily the days passed with them; or that I had time to tell you more of Russell and Berty, at their boyish plays in the hall. But I must hasten to give you an account of an August tree, and the celebration that accompanied it.
The little folks—there were nine in all—had been very good through the long warm days, and the two mammas were quite willing to afford them any reasonable pleasure.
So, when, one morning, Russell said, "Oh, I wish it was Christmas!"
And Helen answered, "We can have an August tree, as well as a Christmas tree."
A ready consent was given to her earnest request.
The plan was at last arranged; a beautiful spruce tree brought from the woods; and then Aunt Josey wrote tiny notes inviting the guests.
There were the farmer and his wife and family, the carpenter and the painter, with their families, all dependents of the great house; each must come to the August tree, have his or her present, and stay to the big supper.
What a busy time that was, and how earnestly the children consulted in regard to suitable gifts, and the decorations of their tree! In the kitchen what a clatter of dishes and of tongues, beating of eggs and sugar! Russell, who seemed to be everywhere, ran at last to announce the fact that the cake had come out of the oven and smelled real good.
The day so long and eagerly anticipated came at last, and at an early hour the children's voices rung through the house.
The guests had all signified their pleasure at the invitation, and their resolution to be "on hand." The celebration was to be in the afternoon; but the little folks had enough to do to keep themselves busy till about eleven. After this, the hours lagged terribly. Russell thought the clock had stopped, and Helen said, earnestly,—