The Strouther and Streckfuss driver had been hired at an exorbitant
cost to sit up and deliver the gifts. The horses had not been
consulted. They leaned on each other and slept, dreaming of oats.

The Budlong parlor was soon a hideous scene. The husband would open a
bundle and sing out, "Who's this big immense pink and purple cuspidor
for?"

"That's a jardineer," Mrs. Budlong would gasp. "It's a return for that
horrible cat those hateful Disneys are going to inflict on me. Here's
the card."

She handed him a holly-wreathed pasteboard on which she had written,
"For Mr. and Mrs. Disney with most affectionate Yuletide greetings."

She indited cards as fast as she could think up phrases. She sought
for variety, but the effort was maddening. She wrote, "Very merry
Christmas," "The merriest of Xmases," "A merry merry Yuletide," "A
Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year," "Christmas Greetings," "Xmas
Greetings," "Yuletide Greetings," "Wishing you a--" "With loving wishes
for--" "Affectionate," and so on and so on and on and on. She
scribbled and scrawled till slumber drugged her and her pen went crazy.
When she fell asleep she was writing "A Yuly Newmas and a Happy X-Year
to Swally Sezey."

The delivery man pounded on the door and wild-eyed Budlong let him in
from the night. The man whispered that he'd have to start at once if
he was to make the rounds before his horses laid down on him.

Mr. Budlong called his wife, but she did not answer. He shook her and