“Oh, I thought you could hardly let Christmas go by without coming to see the fun.”
“Did! Well, I never thought nothing about comin’ till yesterday, when I sat in my little room, and I got feelin’ pretty dull; and thinks I to myself, I’ll just borrow Mr. White’s old horse, and take my old gig, and drive up to the farm, and see the folks.”
“Cousin Betty, who do you think is coming to see us to-night?” asked little Grace.
“I’m sure I can’t tell, child. Who is it?”
“Why, Santa Claus himself, with all his presents around him.”
“Is, hey?” said cousin Betty; “well, I shall be mighty glad to see him, I can tell you; for, old as I am, I’ve never seen him yet.”
“I’m so glad you’ve come, cousin Betty!” said Effie; “we want you to go with us some day over to the farm-house, and tell us about our great-grandfather, whose house stood where the farm-house stands now; and how his house was burnt down by the Indians, and he was carried off. Agnes wants to hear it so much.”
“Does! Well, I will go over there, and tell you the story, some day. But I can’t walk over there while the weather is so cold; I should get the rheumatiz.”
“I’ll drag you over on my sled, if that will do, cousin Betty,” said Robert.
The children laughed so heartily at the picture presented to their imagination of little old cousin Betty riding on Robert’s sled, that Grace actually rolled out of her chair.