Then her husband was a great jolly fellow, with
whom it was impossible to be shy, and the babies--there never were such
cunning babies, Peggy thought. Just here her niece gave her a
particularly vicious kick, and Peggy opposed to her train of admiring
thoughts, "But I'm so tired."
It did not seem to Peggy that she had been asleep at all when she was
waked with a vigorous pounding on her chest and a shrill little voice
in her ear:
"Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus! It's mornin'! It's Ch'is'mus!"
"Oh, no, it isn't, Minna!" pleaded Peggy, struggling with sleepiness.
"It's all dark still."
"Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus, Ch'is'mus!" reiterated Minna continuing to pound.
"Hush, dear! You'll wake Aunt Arna, and she's feed after being all day
on the chou-chou cars."
"Merry Ch'is'mus, Aunty Arna!" shouted the irrepressible Minna.
"Oh, darling, be quiet! We'll play little pig goes to market. I'll tell
you a story, only be quiet a little while."
It took Peggy's utmost effort to keep the little wriggler still for the
hour from five to six. Then, however, her shrill, "Merry Ch'is'mus!"
roused the household. Protests were of no avail. Minna was the only
granddaughter. Dark as it was, people must get up.
Peggy must dress Minna and then hurry down to help get breakfast--not
so easy a task with Minna ever at one's heels.
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