"O, Christmas is going to be splendided than ever, this year," said Dotty; "isn't it grandma? Did you have any Christmases when you were young?"
"O, yes; but we didn't make much account of Christmas in those days."
"Why, grandma! I knew you lived on bean porridge, but I s'posed you had something to eat Christmas!"
"O, sometimes I had a little saucer-pie, sweetened with molasses, and the crust made of raised dough."
"Poor, dear grandma!"
"I remember my father used to put a great backlog on the fire Christmas morning, as large as the fireplace would hold; and that was all the celebration we ever had."
"Didn't you have Christmas presents?"
"No, Alice; not so much as a brass thimble."
"Poor grandma! I shouldn't think you would have wanted to live! Didn't anybody love you?" said Dotty, putting her fingers under Mrs. Read's cap, and smoothing her soft gray hair; "why, I love every hair of your head."
"I am glad thee does, child; but that doesn't take much love, for thee knows I haven't a great deal of hair."