ly afraid of
trying your patience too far. Even in this long letter I can't tell you
all I want to; so I shall write you again soon. Jerrine will write too.
Just now she has very sore fingers. She has been picking gooseberries,
and they have been pretty severe on her brown little paws.

With much love to you, I am

"Honest and truly" yours,
ELINORE RUPERT STEWART.

XIX

THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE

_January 6, 1913._

MY DEAR FRIEND,--

I have put off writing you and thanking you for your thought for us
until now so that I could tell you of our very happy Christmas and our
deer hunt all at once.

To begin with, Mr. Stewart and Junior have gone to Boulder to spend the
winter. Clyde wanted his mother to have a chance to enjoy our boy, so,
as he had to go, he took Junior with him. Then those of my dear
neighbors nearest my heart decided to prevent a lonely Christmas for
me, so on December 21st came Mrs. Louderer, laden with an immense plum
pudding and a big "_wurst_," and a little later came Mrs. O'Shaughnessy
on her frisky pony, Chief, her scarlet sweater making a bright bit of
color against our snow-wrapped horizon. Her face and ways are just as
bright and cheery as can be. When she saw Mrs. Louderer's pudding and
sausage she said she had brought nothing because she had come to get
something to eat herself, "and," she continued, "it is a private
opinion of mine that my neighbors are so glad to see me that they are
glad to feed me." Now wouldn't that little speech have made her welcome
anywhere?

Well, we were hilariously planning what Mrs. O'Shaughnessy called a
"widdy" Christmas and getting supper, when a great stamping-off of snow
proclaimed a newcomer. It was Gavotte, and we were powerfully glad to
see him because the hired man was going to a dance and we knew Gavotte
would contrive some unusual amusement. He had heard that Clyde was
going to have a deer-drive, and didn't know that he had gone, so he had
come down to join the hunt just for the fun, and was very much
disappointed to find there was going to be no hunt. After supper,
however, his good humor returned and he told us story after story of
big hunts he had had in Canada. He worked up his own enthusiasm as well
as ours, and at last proposed that we have a drive of our own for a
Christmas "joy." He said he would take a station and do the shooting if
one of us would do the driving. So right now I reckon I had better tell