"Oh certainly, I forgot!" exclaimed George, generously; "in Helen's stocking."
"No, mamma," said Helen, "in George's sock."
"Stocking!" cried George.
"Sock!" cried Helen.
They kept this up about a dozen times, laughing and jumping about the room like two crazy monkeys, their mamma and papa laughing too, till all their faces were in a perfect glow, which made them look like a very handsome family—for, let me tell you, that good humor and innocent merriment are very becoming to everybody, while ill-temper makes one look like a fright.
But how was this difficult matter of sock and stocking to be settled? Why, by the children's papa, to be sure! for he was a lawyer, and did nothing all day long but settle difficulties, or make them worse, I don't know which.
He took two long slips of paper, and wrote "Socks" on one and "Stockings" on the other. These he put in his hat, which George brought out of the hall. Then he rang the bell, and told the waiter who answered it to request Mrs. Custard, the cook, to come up to the parlor for a moment.
Mrs. Custard, who was very fat, and, besides, had the rheumatism, came into the room quite breathless, looking very much surprised and a little frightened. She had dropped her thimble that day, when she was sewing up the stuffing in the turkey, and had not had time to look for it; and she was panic struck lest her master had found it roasted in the very middle of the turkey, and was going to ask her if she thought she was cooking for an ostrich, which, as everybody knows, prefers a dinner of iron spikes, pebble stones, and oyster shells to roast beef.
But nothing of the kind happened. The children's papa only said, "Good evening, Mrs. Custard, you gave us a very nice dinner to-day. I want you to put your hand in this hat and draw out one piece of paper."
"Laws me, sir!" exclaimed the cook, "I hopes you don't mean to play no trick on me; will it bite?"