Chi was up at five o'clock, building roaring fires, for it was ten degrees below zero.
With the first glint of the sun on the frosted panes the household was astir. At precisely seven the order was given to take down the thirteen stockings. But bless you! You 're not to think the stockings could hold all the gifts. In front of each wide jamb were piled the bundles and packages, three feet high!
Rose hesitated a moment when the children sat down on the rug with their stockings, as was their custom every Christmas morn; then she plumped down among them, saying, laughingly:
"I don't care if I am growing up, Martie--it's Christmas."
Upon which Jack, hugging his striped Balbriggan, sat down beside her.
Such "Ohs" and "Ahs"! Such thankings and squeezings! Such somersaults as were turned by March and Budd at the kitchen end of the long-room! Such rapturous gurgles from May! Such hand-shakes and kisses! Such silent bliss on the part of Chi, who, though suffering as if in a Turkish bath, had donned his new, blue woollen sweater, drawn on his gauntleted beaver gloves, and proceeded to investigate his stocking with the air of a man who has nothing more to wish for. And through all the chaotic happiness a sentence could be distinguished now and then.
"Chi, these corn-cob pipes are just what I shall want after Christmas when I give my Junior Smoker."
"Oh, Martie, it can't be for me!" as the lovely white serge dress, ready made and trimmed with lace, was held up to Rose's admiring eyes.
Budd was caressing with approving fingers a regular "base-ball-nine" bat and admiring the white leather balls.
"I say, it's a stunner, Mr. Sherrill; but how did you know I wanted it?"