“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’ve niver had one—that is, since I was too schmall to remimber.”
“Then what are you homesick for?”
“It’s me brothers, and sisters, and their childer, an’ the tree, an’ stockin’s,—an’—oh, it’s Christmas—”
“I see,” he said solemnly.
“Nora,” he added suddenly, “why couldn’t we have a tree?”
“Sure, an’ where’d we get it?”
“I don’t know, except where everybody gets trees—I guess you buy them.”
“Yes, an’ they’re after costin’ a heap of money, too.”
“I suppose so,” he said. Then he clasped his hands. “Nora,” he said, “we simply must have some kind of a tree, because, you see, it wouldn’t be Christmas at all if we didn’t.”
“There ain’t nothin’ in the house that’d do for a tree, I don’t suppose.”