They had been
translating famously, when, in the late afternoon, there came a ring of
the doorbell. Peggy found Hazen bowing low, and craving "Mistress
Peggy's company." A sleigh and two prancing horses stood at the gate.
It was a glorious drive. Peggy's eyes danced and her laugh rang out at
Hazen's drolleries. The world stretched white all about them, and their
horses flew on and on like the wind. They rode till dark, then turned
back to the village, twinkling with lights.
The Brower house was alight in every window, and there was the sound of
many voices in the hall. The door flew open upon a laughing crowd of
boys and girls. Peggy, all glowing and rosy with the wind, stood
utterly bewildered until Esther rushed forward and hugged and shook her.
"It's a party!" she exclaimed. "One of your mother's waffle suppers!
We're all here! Isn't it splendid?"
"But, but, but--" stammered Peggy.
"'But, but, but,'" mimicked Esther. "But this is your vacation, don't
you see?"
XV. LITTLE WOLFF'S WOODEN SHOES
A CHRISTMAS STORY BY FRANCOIS COPPEE; ADAPTED AND TRANSLATED BY ALMA J.
FOSTER
Once upon a time--so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date--in
a city in the north of Europe--with such a hard name that nobody can
ever remember it--there was a little seven-year-old boy named Wolff,
whose parents were dead, who lived with a cross and stingy old aunt,
who never thought of kissing him more than once a year and who sighed
deeply whenever she gave him a bowlful of soup.
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