"Thank ye, John; thank ye," said Mr. Acres, suddenly rising and going to the window, where he stood apparently deeply interested in the view of a blank wall and some smoky chimney-pots before him.
"Whin his day comes," continued John, loud enough to be overheard by Mr. Acres, "what a croonin' and a philaluin' thim poor crathers will be makin'. Sure, their tears will be droopin' like diamonds into his grave."
This was too much for Mr. Acres, who turned around, presenting a picture of inconsolable grief. It was only after two or three violent efforts to clear his throat of some unusually large obstacle which appeared to have stuck there that he succeeded in saying:
"Merry Christmas, John! Merry Christmas! You will find a plum-pudding, John, waiting down-stairs," and immediately began another survey of the blank wall and chimney-pots, making at the same time several abortive attempts to whistle.
John took the hint, and bowed himself out of the room. A dead silence ensued upon his departure, which no one appeared to find sufficient reason to break. In vain did I rack my brains to find an appropriate remark, but the words would not arrange themselves into a grammatical sentence. As I chanced to lift my eyes to the full-orbed face of Bob, standing bolt upright behind Minnie's chair, I became convinced at once of the fact that I had been intently and impudently staring at that Darling of the World for some time, whose beautiful downcast face, half shaded by a profuse cluster of raven curls I thought might engage the attention of any individual, say for an unlimited term of years. Embarrassed by this discovery, I took up the basket list and became at once deeply absorbed in its perusal. Unfortunately, the paper appeared to be possessed of some diabolical fascination which prevented my looking away from it or opening my mouth. How long this state of things might have continued is difficult to say, had not Bob broken the silence by a question, addressed, as it seemed, rather to mankind in general then to any particular individual within hearing:
"This ain't Christmas is it?"
"Yes, it is, you rascal," replied Mr. Acres; who, being either satisfied with his inspection of the blank wall and the chimney-pots, or had concluded to defer their more minute examination to another time, at that moment came forward to the table. "Go and order up lunch directly, Minnie, my darling; Mr. Holiday will give us the pleasure of his company, and also to dinner. Meanwhile, Mr. Holiday will be glad to hear you sing, my dear, and I will go and have Number Twenty looked after; that basket was only a bite, only a bite."
Mr. Alfred Holiday immediately led Miss Minnie Acres to the piano, where he listened with rapt attention to that young lady's singing of Miss Hemans's "O lovely voices of the sky;" upon which Mr. Alfred Holiday made the stupid remark that he had never heard any one of those "voices of the sky" before that day. Afterward Miss Minnie Acres and Mr. Alfred Holiday looked over a portfolio of prints together, when that young gentleman discovered that all his fingers were thumbs, and besought Miss Minnie Acres to hold one of the prints for him, when, looking at her and at the same time pretending to examine the picture with a critical eye, he declared he never saw anything so beautiful in his life, which irrelevant observation caused Miss Minnie Acres to say to Mr. Alfred Holiday, "Why! you're not looking at it!" whereupon that gentlemen became speechless and blushed from the roots of his hair to the depths of his best necktie. Of the events of the rest of the day Mr. Alfred Holiday distinctly remembers the following facts. Lunch being announced, Mr. Alfred Holiday took Miss Minnie Acres to the table, acted in the most insane manner while there, and lead Miss Minnie Acres back to the parlor; that he played backgammon with Miss Minnie Acres, and doubtless left an impression on the mind of that young lady that he was utterly ignorant of the game; that he accompanied Miss Minnie Acres to Vespers, and returned with her; that he took Miss Minnie Acres to dinner, during which a gentleman, who to the best of his belief was Mr. Thomas Acres, told him several times that he, Mr. Alfred Holiday, ate nothing, a fact of which that gentleman was not aware; that after the cloth was removed Mr. Alfred Holiday sat staring at an empty chair opposite him, for the possession of which he could cheerfully have impoverished himself and gone upon the wide, wide world; that certain musical sounds proceeded from the direction of the parlor, Mr. Alfred Holiday asseverated in the strongest terms to be "divine;" that upon his return to the parlor he was only restrained by the presence of a third person from throwing himself upon his knees and explaining: "Thou art the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of my life," but which he nevertheless repeated [{549}] in his mind an innumerable number of times; in a word, that Mr. Alfred Holiday fell head over ears in love with Miss Minnie Acres, and made of all, which up to the present writing he has religiously, that if she would accept his hand and heart, which she did a few weeks after, he would send her twenty baskets of provisions to as many poor families every Christmas Eve, as a thank-offering, and a grateful remembrance of the hour when he laughed, and thereby one the most beautiful and most faithful wife that a man ever have.