“Half a dozen boxes of candy—hope nobody will get ill from them,” went on John James, still investigating. “Here’s—oh, undo this carefully—a fur tippet for Mary!”
“Great snakes!” said Asher, handling it with reverence. “I never see no sech fur as this.”
“Yes, it’s a warm one, I hope,” said John, from the depths of the box.
He brought out mittens for the children, a stunning suit for little John, dresses for Sarah, Mary, and the cousins, more books, mechanical toys that set Asher laughing as if he never would stop.
Asher gazed around the kitchen, which looked like a museum.
“I never see sech a sight,” said he; “I’m sort o’ bewildered. Is this you an’ me, or some other fellows?”
“You’ll find out if you don’t wake up and put all these things on the plates and chairs where they belong. Asher, we must clear up these wrappings. Hold on!—here’s something we overlooked.” He picked up a small box containing four tiny boxes.
“Rings for the children, by jiminy!” said Asher, looking over his shoulder. “Lucky we didn’t cram it into the kindlin’s.”
It was one o’clock before they got to bed; and it seemed as if they were only just asleep before the seven-o’clock alarm went off, and waked them up to a world of snow.
They slept later than usual, but there was a tremendous hustling in that house, once they were fairly awake. When all were dressed and had come down, the shrieks of the children and their own curiosity made it nearly impossible for the women to get breakfast. It was one of their Christmas rules that no gift on the table should be taken up till all were at the board. But Dolly, with low “oh’s” and “ah’s” of delight, touched softly the pink toes and hands of the big “sleeping beauty” in her chair; for the box was too big to go on the table. All their chairs were full, and the steaming breakfast cooled before the jubilant household were ready to eat.