It was the middle of November. A wild, cold wind was sweeping over the Mountain, and driving black clouds in quick succession across the tops of the woodlands. It howled around the farmhouse and, as now and again a more furious blast hurled itself against doors and windows, the children drew nearer together on the rug before the huge fireplace with a delightful sense of safety and cosiness.
A kettle of molasses was simmering on the stove, and Chi was wielding the corn-popper with truly professional skill before the open fire.
It was such fun to see the hurry, and scurry, and hustle, and rattle, and pop, and sudden white transformation of the heated kernels! A huge, wooden bowl received the contents of the popper, and March salted them. Oh, how good it smelt! And Rose was going to make molasses corn-balls to put aside for the next evening.
"It's just like having a party every night, there are so many of us," said Hazel, clapping her hands in delight.
"I should think you 'd miss some of your real parties, Hazel," said Rose, thoughtfully.
"Miss them! Not a bit; why, they are n't half so nice as this, and at home it's so lonesome when papa isn't there. Is n't it lovely to think he 's coming up Christmas? Even up here, you know, it would n't be quite Christmas for me without him. That makes me think, I must write him very soon about some things." Hazel looked mysterious.
"We hung up our stockings last year, but we did n't get what we wanted," said Cherry rather mournfully.
"Why not?" asked Hazel.
"Coz Popsey was so sick he could n't go out to the Wishing-Tree, and so he did n't know."
"What is the Wishing-Tree?" said Hazel, consumed with curiosity.