go
to visit with the girls. She and Frank had never been invited to any
semi-religious festival by this aunt, owing to Frank's atheistic
tendencies.

But the haughty and religious dame had heard rumors and was curious.

"I'll go for your sake, Jennie. But she'll be disappointed. Maybe I'd
better shave my mustache so's to let her see some change in me."

Of course everybody who had a grandmother in the country was going to
grandma's and early Thanksgiving morning teams were arriving for the
various batches of grandchildren.

That was the only fault one could find with a Green Valley
Thanksgiving--that so many went away to spend the day.

But with Christmas it was different. Christmas in Green Valley was a
home day. The town was full of visitors and sleigh bells and merry
calls and walking couples. Everybody was waving Christmas presents or
wearing them. For Green Valley believed in Christmas presents. Not
the kind that make people he awake nights hating Christmas and that
call for "do your shopping early" signs. But the old-fashioned kind of
presents that are not stained with hate or worry or debt.

The giving of Christmas presents was the pleasantest kind of a game in
Green Valley. Of course everybody knew everybody's needs so well that
weeks before the gifts, wrapped in tissue paper, lay waiting in a trunk
up in the attic. And as a general thing everybody was happy over what
they got. No present cost much money but oh, what a world of thought
and love and fun went into it. Nor was it hard for Green Valley folks
to decide what to give.

When Dell Parsons saw her dearest friend admiring her asparagus fern
she divided it in the fall and tended it carefully and sent it to Nan
Turner on Christmas morning.

When folks found out that some time next spring Alice Sears might have
a baby to dress they sent her ever so many lovely, soft little things
so she would not have to worry or grieve because her first baby could
not have its share of pretties.

As soon as Green Valley knew that Jocelyn Brownlee was engaged it sent
her a tried and true poor-man's-wife cookbook, big gingham aprons,
holders to keep her from burning her hands and samples of their best
jellies, pickles and preserves.

And such a time as Green Valley grandmothers had weaving, knitting and
crocheting beautiful rag rugs to match blue and white bathrooms, yellow
and green kitchens, pink and cream bedrooms. And every year there was
a larg