n't grow very fast.

My father said that perhaps the fertilizer hadn't been rich enough.

My mother said that maybe all Christmas trees were blooming rather late
this year. Seasons changed so.

My father and mother didn't go away to town at all. Not for a single
day.

Late at night after we'd gone to bed we heard them hammering things and
running the sewing-machine.

Carol thought it smelt like kites.

Rosalee said it sounded to her like a blue silk waist.

It looked like a worry to me.

It got colder and colder. It snowed and snowed.

Christmas eve it snowed some more. It was beautiful. We were very much
excited. We clapped our hands. We stood at the window to see how white
the world was. I thought about the wise men's camels. I wondered if
they could carry snow in their stomachs as well as rain. Mother said
camels were tropics and didn't know anything about snow. It seemed
queer.

A sleigh drove up to the door. There were three men in it. Two of them
got out. The first one was young Derry Willard. It was a fur coat that
he had on. He was full of bundles. My father gave one gasp.

"The--the impudent young--" gasped my father.

We ran to the door. The second man looked just exactly like young Derry
Willard except that he had on a gray beard and a gray slouch hat. He
looked like the picture of "a planter" in "Uncle Tom's Cabin." My father
and he took just one look at each other. And then suddenly they began to
pound each other on the back and to hug each other. "Hello, old top!"
they shouted. "Hello--hello--_hello_!" Derry Willard's father cried a
little. Everybody cried a little or shouted or pounded somebody on the
back except young Derry Willard and Rosalee. Young Derry Willard and
Rosalee just stood and looked at each other.

"Well--well--well!" said Derry Willard's father over and over and over.
"Twenty years! _Twenty_ years!" The front hall was full of bundles! We
fell on them when we stepped. And we fell on new ones when we tried to
get up. Whenever Derry Willard's father wasn't crying he was laughing!
"So this is the wife?" he said. "And these are the children? Which is
Rosalee? Ah! A very pretty girl! But not as pretty as your wife!" he
laughed. "Twenty years! _Twenty_ years!" he began all over again. "A bit
informal, eh? Descending on you like this? But I couldn't resist the
temptation after I'd seen Derry. We Southerners, you know! Our impulses
are romantic! Tuck us away anywhere! Or turn us ou