wall's a peach, but I
don't seem to make much headway. My best to Sam.

Your affectionate brother,

GUY.

Gay Nan had felt a slight choking in her own throat as she read this
letter. "We really must make an effort to be there Christmas next
year, Sam," she said to her husband, and Sam assented cheerfully. He
only wished there were a father and mother somewhere in the world for
him to go home to.

Guy wrote the same sort of thing, with more or less detail, to Edson
and Oliver, his married elder brothers; to Ralph, his unmarried
brother; and to Carolyn--Mrs. Charles Wetmore, his other--and
elder--married sister. He received varied and more or less sympathetic
responses, to the effect that with so many little children, and such
snowdrifts as always blocked the roads leading toward North Estabrook,
it really was not strange--and of course somebody would go next year.
But they had all sent the nicest gifts they could find. Didn't Guy
think mother liked those beautiful Russian sables Ralph sent her? And
wasn't father pleased with his gold-headed cane from Oliver? Surely
with such presents pouring in from all the children, Father and Mother
Fernald couldn't feel so awfully neglected.

"Gold-headed cane be hanged!" Guy exploded when he read this last
sentence from the letter of Marian, Oliver's wife. "I'll bet she put
him up to it. If anybody dares give me a gold-headed cane before I'm
ninety-five I'll thrash him with it on the spot. He wasn't using it,
either--bless him. He had his old hickory stick, and he wouldn't have
had that if that abominable rheumatism hadn't gripped him so hard. He
isn't old enough to use a cane, by jolly, and Ol ought to know it, if
Marian doesn't. I'm glad I sent him that typewriter. He liked that, I
know he did, and it'll amuse him, too--not make him think he's ready
to die!"

Guy was not the fellow to forget anything which had taken hold of him
as that pathetic Christmas home-coming had done. When the year had
nearly rolled around, the first of December saw him at work getting
his plans in train. He began with his eldest brother, Oliver, because
he considered Mrs. Oliver the hardest proposition he had to tackle in
the carrying out of his idea.

"You see," he expounded patiently, as they sat and stared at him, "it
isn't that they aren't always awfully glad to see the whole outfit,
children and all, but it just struck me it would do 'em a lot of good
to revive old times. I thought if w