“'Twon't be much time for us,” said Ben, who thought of the many hours to be devoted to hard work that would run away with the time. “We'd better begin right away, Polly.”
“Well, all right,” said Polly, who could scarcely keep her fingers still, as she thought of the many things she should so love to do if she could. “But first, Ben, what let's do?”
“Would you rather hang up their stockings?” asked Ben, as if he had unlimited means at his disposal; “or have a tree?”
“Why,” said Polly, with wide open eyes at the two magnificent ideas, “we haven't got anything to put in the stockings when we hang 'em, Ben.”
“That's just it,” said Ben. “Now, wouldn't it be better to have a tree, Polly? I can get that easy in the woods, you know.”
“Well,” interrupted Polly, eagerly, “we haven't got anything to hang on that, either, Ben. You know Jappy said folks hang all sorts of presents on the branches. So I don't see,” she continued, impatiently, “as that's any good. We can't do anything, Ben Pepper, so there! there isn't anything to do anything with,” and with a flounce Polly sat down on the old wooden stool, and folding her hands looked at Ben in a most despairing way.
“I know,” said Ben, “we haven't got much.”
“We haven't got anything,” said Polly, still looking at him. “Why, we've got a tree,” replied Ben, hopefully. “Well, what's a tree,” retorted Polly, scornfully. “Anybody can go out and look at a tree outdoors.”
“Well, now, I tell you, Polly,” said Ben, sitting down on the floor beside her, and speaking very slowly and decisively, “we've got to do something 'cause we've begun; and we might make a tree real pretty.”
“How?” asked Polly, ashamed of her ill-humor, but not in the least seeing how anything could be made of a tree. “How, Ben Pepper?”