“Another slice of turkey, Mrs Cubus?”

“Well, really, my dear, I don’t think—er—er—well, it really is a delicious turkey. Oh! half that, George. And why don’t you say mamma? Yes, just the least bit of stuffing, and—er—a chestnut or two. That’s quite enough gravy, thank you. Now, what did you give for the carpet?”

“Oh,” I said, “it’s Christmas-time, so I shall make a riddle of it. Guess.”

“Well, let me see,” said Mrs S’s Mamma. “You gave—what shall I say? About eighteen feet square, isn’t it?”

“Very good—that’s it exact.”

“Well, then, my dear, as you bought it a bargain, I should say you gave five pounds for it—or say guineas—but, no, I’ll say pounds.”

“Capital!” I said, with the most amiable smile I ever had upon my countenance; “I did give five pounds for it.”

“Plus seventeen,” I whispered into my waistcoat.

“What, dear?”

“Merry Christmas to you,” I said, bowing over my glass of sherry.

And that was my last bargain-hunt.

Chapter Nine.

The Ice-Breaking.

CONTENTS

 Down by the woods in the rocky valley, Where the babbling waves of the river sally, Where the pure source gushes And the wild fount rushes, There’s the sound of the roar That is heard on the shore, Where the tumbling billows the chalk cliffs bore; For down from each hill With resistless will, The floods are fast pouring their waters so chill, And the West has risen with a cry and a shout, Dash’d at the North to the Ice-king’s rout; Then off and away, For the livelong day Has rush’d through the woodlands - no longer gay, Splitting the branches; While avalanches Of melting snow Bend the pine-boughs low, And the earth with the spoil of the warfare strow. And now once again 

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