Germany. The youngest kid we got in Yellowhammer packs a forty-five
and a safety razor. Consequently we're mighty shy on anybody to say
'Oh' and 'Ah' when we light the candles on the Christmas tree. Now,
partner, if you'll loan us a few kids we guarantee to return 'em safe
and sound on Christmas Day. And they'll come back loaded down with a
good time and Swiss Family Robinsons and cornucopias and red drums and
similar testimonials. What do you say?"

"In other words," said the Judge, "we have discovered for the first
time in our embryonic but progressive little city the inconveniences
of the absence of adolescence. The season of the year having
approximately arrived during which it is a custom to bestow frivolous
but often appreciated gifts upon the young and tender--"

"I understand," said the parent, packing his pipe with a forefinger.
"I guess I needn't detain you gentlemen. Me and the old woman have got
seven kids, so to speak; and, runnin' my mind over the bunch, I don't
appear to hit upon none that we could spare for you to take over to
your doin's. The old woman has got some popcorn candy and rag dolls
hid in the clothes chest, and we allow to give Christmas a little
whirl of our own in a insignificant sort of style. No, I couldn't,
with any degree of avidity, seem to fall in with the idea of lettin'
none of 'em go. Thank you kindly, gentlemen."

Down the slope they drove and up another foothill to the ranch-house
of Wiley Wilson. Trinidad recited his appeal and the Judge boomed out
his ponderous antiphony. Mrs. Wiley gathered her two rosy-cheeked
youngsters close to her skirts and did not smile until she had seen
Wiley laugh and shake his head. Again a refusal.