you see how pretty a bag o’ pink pep’mints ’d be on that green tree? An’--dearie me!” broke off the little old woman breathlessly, falling back in her chair. “How I’m runnin’ on! I reckon I am in my dotage.”

For a moment Samuel did not reply. His brow was puckered into a prodigious frown, and his right hand had sought the back of his head--as was always the case when in deep thought. Suddenly his face cleared.

“Ye ain’t in yer dotage--by gum, ye ain’t!” he cried excitedly. “An’ I ain’t, neither. An’ what’s more, you’re a-goin’ ter have that tree--ice cream, pink pep’mints, an’ all!”

“Oh, my grief an’ conscience--Samuel!” quavered Lydia Ann.

“Well, ye be. We can do it easy, too. We’ll have it the night ’fore Christmas. The children don’t get here until Christmas day, ever, ye know, so ‘t won’t interfere a mite with their visit, an’ ’twill be all over ‘fore they get here. An’ we’ll make a party of it, too,” went on Samuel gleefully. “There’s the Hopkinses an’ old Mis’ Newcomb, an’ Uncle Tim, an’ Grandpa Gowin’--they’ll all come an’ be glad to.”

“Samuel, could we?” cried Lydia Ann, incredulous but joyous. “Could we, really?”

“I’ll get the tree myself,” murmured Samuel, aloud, “an’ we can buy some o’ that shiny stuff up ter the store ter trim it.”

“An’ I’ll get some of that pink-an’-white tarl’tan for bags,” chimed in Lydia Ann happily: “the pink for the white pep’mints, an’ the white for the pink. Samuel, won’t it be fun?” And to hear her one would have thought her seventeen instead of seventy-three.

A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram’s only daughter, Ella, wrote this letter to each of her brothers:

It has occurred to me that it might be an excellent idea if we would plan to spend a little more time this year with Father and Mother when we go for our usual Christmas visit; and what kind of a scheme do you think it would be for us to take the children, and make a real family reunion of it?

I figure that we could all get there by four o’clock the day before Christmas, if we planned for it; and by staying perhaps two days after Christmas we could make quite a visit. What do you say? You see Father and Mother are getting old, and we can’t have them with us many more years, anyway; and I’m sure this would please them--only we must be very careful not to make it too exciting for them.

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