"They were seated one winter's night each side of the fire, which consisted of some shreds of corn-husk upon a pebble, and certainly made as bright a blaze as need be. Grandpapa was feeling better; for the mouse doctor had been to see him that day, and had given him a new liniment of great virtue. He was whistling quite a gay tune, and staring at the fire, when suddenly he exclaimed,—
"'It is almost Christmas time, my dear.'
"Grandmamma had been dozing over her knitting-work; so she rubbed her eyes, and said,—
"'What?'
"'It is almost Christmas,' he repeated louder, for she was a trifle deaf. 'I heard the farmer say so to-day, when he was counting his turkeys out there. I think we had better give a dinner-party, and invite all our children home.'
"'Perhaps we had,' assented Grandmamma with a sigh: she knew how much work it would make. 'We have not enough spare rooms, though, I am afraid.'
"'We can easily gnaw a few new ones,' said Grandpapa briskly. 'Let us send our invitations by the postman to-morrow.'
"So they wrote to all their children; and the next morning the little servant mouse had to watch under a bush until the letter-carrier came. Now this postman was a snow-bird, who had promised always to take messages for the mice, if they would steal him bits of bread and cake from the pantry.
"'If you please, sir, my master has got some letters for you,' called the little servant, in a wee, piping voice, for her nose was getting cold out of doors.
"'Put them into my bag,' said the snow-bird, hopping along jauntily.