“’Tain’t no matter, Pete,” interrupted Lize. “Maw can make a hoe-cake fur Christmas. You’ve ben moughty good ter me, Pete, an’ some day mebbe I can do sumthin’ fer yo’,” and Lize looked at him in simple thankfulness.
“I’m moughty sorry, Lize,” repeated Pete. “But bein’ yo’ hain’t got nothin’ ter eat, can’t yo’ come up ter the celebrashun ter-night? They’re goin’ ter hev a real Christmas tree at the school-house, an’ the parson’s comin’ up from Bar Camp an’ bring er lot o’ presents with him. Mebbe we’ll get one, Lize.”
The deep-set black eyes of Lize lighted up with evident pleasure at the thought.
“Mebbe we will,” she answered. “At enny rate, Pete, I’ll come, shore,” she called after him, as he started towards his “city” home.
It was a great event in the history of the little mountain hamlet, for it was the first time that Christmas had ever condescended to visit the cluster of half a dozen shanties. The lights were all extinguished, save in the ten by twenty school-house where the celebration was being held.
As Pete and Lize came in from the cold night air to the warmth and glow of Christmas which filled the stuffy little school-house, they were silent in surprise. It was something unheard of, this giving of presents to friends, much less to strangers; but as they heard the story of the first Christmas, and the message it brought, they began to realize the true meaning of Love. As if it were contagious, it dawned upon Pete for the first time, that his affection and regard for Lize was nothing less than love. He felt as if with the distribution of the presents and the strings of popcorn something new and strange had come into his rough life.
“I ’low we must er got it, Lize,” said Pete, as together they ate their string of corn. “Maw ’lowed I hed the measles, but she never said nothin’ ’bout my gettin’ in love.”
“’Tain’t no disease, Pete,” said Lize, who had a woman’s intuition and tenderness in her childish heart. “Lovin’ hain’t catchin’ no more’n nothin’. It’s jest er hevin’ er big heart an’ lettin’ er loose, thet’s all.” And Lize flushed a little at her evident display of knowledge. “The parson ’lowed ez how nobody who wa’n’t in love orter git merred,” Lize continued. “’Tain’t that way hyar; leastwise, I hain’t never heard er nobody bein’ in love up hyar on the mounting.”
Pete was very quiet now. His hat was drawn over his deep-set eyes, and he was playing nervously with the folds in Lize’s calico gown. He was evidently thinking. “Lize,” he said, at length, “I ’low ez we’ve got it, sartin; an’ we’re gittin’ ole, too. I’ve known yo’ fur a long spell, Lize. It’s nigh sixteen year, hain’t it?”