"Well!" said he,
"now ma'am, I like that. That will be a _Christian_ Christmas,--not a
Heathen Christmas. Of course you'll ask all the children of 'respectable
people;' but I want the _poor ones_, too. Don't let anybody frighten you
from asking Sip Tidy's children. I don't know that I like colored folks
particularly, but I think God does, or he would not have colored 'em,
you know. Then do let us have all of Jo Bright's little ones. When I get
into the State Prison, I hope somebody'll look after my family. I know
_you_ will. I don't mean to go there; but who knows? 'If everybody had
his deserts, who would escape a flogging?' as the old saying is. Here's
five dollars towards expenses; and if that ain't enough, I'll make it
ten. Elizabeth will help you make the cake, &c. You shall have as many
eggs as you want. Hens hain't laid well since Thanksgiving; now they do
nothing else."
Captain Weldon let one iron cool on the anvil, and his bellows sigh out
its last breath in the fire and burn the other iron, while he talked
with Aunt Kindly about it. The Captain was a widower, about fifty years
old, with his house full of sons and daughters.
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