Instead, she finds that the thing she would like best of all to
be doing at this moment, next to going to church, would be to be lying
on her father's couch in the office, all by herself, reading.
The dinner is a savoury triumph for Peggy and her mother. The gravy and
the mashed potato are entirely of Peggy's workmanship, and Peggy has
had a hand in most of the other dishes, too, as the mother proudly
tells. How that merry party can eat! Peggy is waitress, and it is long
before the passing is over, and she can sit down in her own place. She
is just as fond of the unusual Christmas good things as are the rest,
but somehow, before she is well started at her turkey, it is time for
changing plates for dessert, and before she has tasted her nuts and
raisins the babies have succumbed to sleepiness, and it is Peggy who
must carry them upstairs for their nap--just in the middle of one of
Hazen's funniest stories, too.
And all the time the little sister is so ready, so quickly serviceable,
that somehow nobody notices--nobody but the doctor. It is he who finds
Peggy, half as hour later, all alone in the kitchen. The mother and the
older daughters are gathered about the sitting-room hearth, engaged in
the dear, delicious talk about the little things that are always left
out of letters.
The doctor interrupts them.
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