If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign. "Hm!" he murmured.
"I've got ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers you
got?--eh?"
"Oh, Samuel!" remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.
"I don't care," asserted Samuel with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in
his chair. "Seems as if we might get somethin' for Christmas 'sides
slippers an' neckerchiefs. Jest 'cause we ain't so young as we once was
ain't no sign that we've lost all our faculty for enj'yment!"
"But, Samuel, they're good an' kind, an' want ter give us somethin',"
faltered Lydia Ann; "and--"
"Yes, I know they're good an' kind," cut in Samuel wrathfully. "We've
got three children, an' each one brings us a Christmas present ev'ry
year. They've got so they do it reg'lar now, jest the same as they--they
go ter bed ev'ry night," he finished, groping a little for his simile.
"An' they put jest about as much thought into it, too," he added grimly.
"My grief an' conscience, Samuel,--how can you talk so!" gasped the
little woman opposite.
"Well, they do," persisted Samuel. "They buy a pair o' slippers an' a
neckerchief, an' tuck 'em into their bag for us--an' that's done; an'
next year they do the same--an' it's done again. Oh, I know I'm
ongrateful, an' all that," acknowledged Samuel testily, "but I can't
help it.
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