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Reeve, Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin), 1880-1936

"The Children's Book of Christmas Stories"

The
doctor seemed to doubt this. He went through the upstairs rooms,
calling her softly. But Peggy was not in any of the bedrooms, or in any
of the closets, either. There was still the kitchen attic to be tried.
There came a husky little moan out of its depths, as he whispered,
"Daughter!"
He groped his way to her, and sitting down on a trunk, folded her into
his bearskin coat.
"Now tell father all about it," he said. And it all came out with many
sobs--the nights and dawns with Minna, the Latin, the sleighing,
Esther's party, breakfast, the weariness, the headache; and last the
waffles, which had moved the one unbearable thing.
"And it is so mean of me, so mean of me!" sobbed Peggy. "But, oh,
daddy, I do want a vacation!"
"And you shall have one," he answered.
He carried her straight into her own room, laid her down on her own
bed, and tumbled Hazen's things into the hall. Then he went downstairs
and talked to his family.
Presently the mother came stealing in. bearing a glass of medicine the
doctor-father had sent. Then she undressed Peggy and put her to bed as
if she had been a baby, and sat by, smoothing her hair, until she fell
asleep.
It seemed to Peggy that she had slept a long, long time. The sun was
shining bright. Her door opened a crack and Arna peeped in, and seeing
her awake, came to the bed and kissed her good morning.


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