plate of jelly
cookies and doughnuts will please the children and fill up the chinks,
and you can bring me that box of ice-cream candy out of the pantry,
and that bag of striped candy sticks your uncle brought home from the
corner last night. And apples, of course--three or four dozen of those
good eaters--and a little pot of my greengage preserves--Edward'll
like that. And some sandwiches and pound cake for a snack for
ourselves. Now, I guess that will do for eatables. The presents for
the children can go in on top. There's a doll for Daisy and the little
boat your uncle made for Ray and a tatted lace handkerchief apiece for
the twins, and the crochet hood for the baby. Now, is that all?"

"There's a cold roast chicken in the pantry," said Lucy Rose wickedly,
"and the pig Uncle Leo killed is hanging up in the porch. Couldn't you
put them in too?"

Aunt Cyrilla smiled broadly. "Well, I guess we'll leave the pig alone;
but since you have reminded me of it, the chicken may as well go in. I
can make room."

Lucy Rose, in spite of her prejudices, helped with the packing and,
not having been trained under Aunt Cyrilla's eye for nothing, did it
very well too, with much clever economy of space. But when Aunt
Cyrilla had put in as a finishing touch a big bouquet of pink and
white everlastings, and tied the bulging covers down with a firm hand,
Lucy Rose stood over the basket and whispered vindictively:

"Some day I'm going to burn this basket--when I get courage enough.
Then there'll be an end of lugging it everywhere we go like a--like an
old market-woman."

Uncle Leopold came in just then, shaking his head dubiously. He was
not going to spend Christmas with Edward and Geraldine, and perhaps
the prospect of having to cook and eat his Christmas dinner all alone
made him pessimistic.

"I mistrust you folks won't get to Pembroke tomorrow," he said sagely.
"It's going to storm."

Aunt Cyrilla did not worry over this. She believed matters of this
kind were fore-ordained, and she slept calmly. But Lucy Rose got up
three times in the night to see if it were storming, and when she did
sleep had horrible nightmares of struggling through blinding
snowstorms dragging Aunt Cyrilla's Christmas basket along with her.

It was not snowing in the early morning, and Uncle Leopold drove Aunt
Cyrilla and Lucy Rose and the basket to the station, four miles off.
When they reached there the air was thick with flying flakes. The
stationmas