But the family in general heard nothing of any change of heart till breakfast time on Christmas morning. They sat enjoying that pleasant meal, in the usual respite before the old lady appeared, when Sarah came in with a bunch of notes and laid one at each plate, with an air of great importance.
"She said I was to leave 'em till you was all here—and here they are!" said Sarah, smiling mysteriously, "and that I was to say nothing—and I haven't!" And the red-cheeked girl folded her arms and waited—as interested as anybody.
Uncle Harry opened his first. "I bet it's a tract!" said he. But he blushed to the roots of his thick brown hair as he took out, not a tract, but a check.
"A Christmas present to my son-in-law-by-marriage; to be spent on the improvement of talking machines—if that is necessary!"
"Why bless her heart!" said he, "I call that pretty handsome, and I'll tell her so!"
Papa opened his.
"For your Convention trip, dear son," said this one, "and for a new dress suit—and a new suit case, and a new overcoat—a nice one. With Mother's love."
It was a large check, this one. Papa sat quite silent and looked at his wife. She went around the table and hugged him—she had to.
"You've got one, too, Louise," said he—and she opened it.
"For my dear daughter Louise; this—to be spent on other people; and this" (this was much bigger) "to be inexorably spent on herself—every cent of it! On her own special needs and pleasures—if she can think of any!"