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Mother by Kathleen Thompson Norris
page 26 of 114 (22%)
"Good to get home!" Margaret said luxuriously.

"You must sleep late in the morning," her mother commanded
affectionately.

"Yes, because you have to be fresh for the party Monday!" exulted
Julie. She had flung a white cloth over the long table, and was
putting the ringed napkins down with rapid bangs. "And New Year's
Eve's the dance!" she went on buoyantly. "I just love Christmas,
anyway!"

"Rebecca, ask Blanche if she needs me,"--that was Mother.

"You'd go perfectly crazy about her, Ju, she's the most fascinating,
and the most unaffected woman!" Margaret was full of the day's real
event.

"And Mother theth that Ted and Dunc and I can have our friendth in
on the day after Chrithmath to thee the Chrithmath tree!" That was
Rebecca, who added, "Blanche theth no, Mother, unleth you want to
make thom cream gravy for the chopth!"

"And, Mark, Eleanor asked if Bruce and you and I weren't going as
Pierrot and Pierettes; she's simply crazy to find out!" This was Julie
again; and then Margaret, coaxingly, "Do make cream gravy for Bruce,
Mother. Give Baby to me!" and little Robert's elated "I know three
things Becky's going to get for Christmas, Mark!"

"Well, I think I will, there's milk," Mrs. Paget conceded, rising.
"Put Bran out, Teddy; or put him in the laundry if you want to, while
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