turkey might find it in the morning.

With his heart full of thanksgiving the negro plodded homeward through
the snow. As he reached the old barn the great clock in the library
struck twelve and faintly through the snowy air floated the distant
silvery chimes of the Cotesville bells, clear and sweet, ringing in a
Christmas morning.

Creeping to bed long after the first rooster had crowed Uncle Noah had
sought the kitchen again with the sunrise, his tired eyes opening
jubilantly upon a snapping cold Christmas morning radiant in gold and
white. Downstairs clusters of holly and mistletoe festooned doors and
windows, dotted the old-fashioned hanging lamps with spots of crimson,
and crowned the family portraits with royal diadems, and evergreen
wreaths hung in the windows--all the work of a wrinkled pair of
faithful brown hands toiling while the world slept. In the library a
blazing wood fire leaped and crackled, while in the dining-room the
table was spread for breakfast. Certain long-needed articles of china,
which had mysteriously disappeared from time to time since the autumn,
dotted a tablecloth free from holes (a new one subjected to a severe
laundry process during the night), and the napkins no longer resembled
Ku-Klux masks. A great bowl of purple orchids glowed at Mrs. Fairfax's
plate.




V

Fernlands