bills. But, of course, you couldn't
try those on. And half the Parish sent presents. But no Parish ever
sent presents that needed to be tried on. No gay, fluffy scarfs,--no
lacey, frivolous pettiskirts,--no bright delaying hat-ribbons! Just
books,--illustrated poems usually, very wholesome pickles,--and always
a huge motto to recommend, "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men."--To
"Men"?--Why not to Women?--Why not at least to "_Dogs_?" questioned
Flame quite abruptly.

Taken all in all it was not a Christmas Morning of sentiment but a
Christmas morning of _works_! Kitchen works, mostly! Useful, flavorous
adventures with a turkey! A somewhat nervous sally with an apple pie!
Intermittently, of course, a few experiments with flour paste! A
flaire or two with a paint brush! An errand to the attic! Interminable
giggles!

Surely it was four o'clock before she was even ready to start for the
Rattle-Pane House. And "starting" is by no means the same as arriving.
Dragging a sledful of miscellaneous Christmas goods an eighth of a
mile over bare ground is not an easy task. She had to make three
tugging trips. And each start was delayed by her big gray pussy cat
stealing out to try to follow her. And each arrival complicated by the
yelpings and leapings and general cavortings of four dogs who didn't
see any reason in the world why they shouldn't escape from their
forced imprisonment in the shed-yard and prance home with her. Even
with the third start and the third arrival finally accomplished, the
crafty cat stood waiting for her on the steps of the Rattle-Pane
House,--back arched, fur bristled, spitting like some new kind of
weather-cock at the storm in the shed-yard, and had to be thrust quite
unceremoniously into a much too small covered basket and lashed down
with yards and yards of tinsel that was needed quite definitely for
something else.--It isn't just the way of the Transgressor that's
hard.--Nobody's way is any too easy!

The door-key, though, was exactly where the old Butler had said it
would be,--under the door mat, and the key itself turned astonishingly
cordially in the rusty old lock. Never in her whole little life having
owned a door-key to her own house it seemed quite an adventure in
itself to be walking thus possessively through an unfamiliar hall
into an absolutely unknown kitchen and goodness knew what on either
side and beyond.

Perfectly simply too as the old Butler had promised, the four dog
dishes, heapi