Across the Years by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
page 16 of 227 (07%)
page 16 of 227 (07%)
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mysteries before them.
Trembling old hands hovered over the many-sized, many-shaped packages, and gently patted the perky red bows; but not until the grandchildren impatiently demanded, "Why don't you look at 'em?" did they venture to untie a single ribbon. Then the old eyes shone, indeed, at sight of the wonderful things disclosed; a fine lace tie and a bottle of perfume; a reading-glass and a basket of figs; some dates, raisins, nuts, and candies, and a little electric pocket lantern which would, at the pressure of a thumb, bring to light all the secrets of the darkest of rooms. There were books, too, such as Ella and Frank themselves liked to read; and there was a handsome little clock for the mantel--but there was not anywhere a pair of bed-slippers or a neckerchief. At last they were all opened, and there remained not one little red bow to untie. On the table, in all their pristine glory, lay the presents, and half-buried in bits of paper and red ribbon sat the amazed, but blissfully happy, little old man and little old woman. Lydia Ann's lips parted, but the trembling words of thanks froze on her tongue--her eyes had fallen on a small pink peppermint on the floor. "No, no, we can't take 'em," she cried agitatedly. "We hadn't ought to. We was wicked and ongrateful, and last night we--we--" She paused helplessly, her eyes on her husband's face. "Samuel, you--you tell," she faltered. Samuel cleared his throat. "Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--" He could say no more. |
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