I tried pretty hard to escape
from myself and began inventing excuses and all that sort of thing, but
I rigidly forced myself to look squarely at my own conduct. And then I
reconciled my confidence by declaring that, if ever after that day I
hated a holiday again, might my holidays end at once and forever!
"Did I go and see my proteges again? What a question! Why--well, no
matter. If the widow is comfortable now, it is because she has found a
way to earn without difficulty enough for her few wants. That's no
fault of mine. I would have done more for her, but she wouldn't let me.
But just let me tell you about New Year's--the New-Year's day that
followed the Christmas I've been describing. It was lucky for me there
was another holiday only a week off. Bless you! I had so much to do
that day I was completely bewildered, and the hours weren't half long
enough. I did make a few social calls, but then I hurried them over;
and then hastened to my little girl, whose face had already caught a
touch of colour; and she, looking quite handsome in her new frock and
her ribbons, took me to other poor folk, and,--well, that's about the
whole story.
"Oh, as to the next Christmas. Well, I didn't dine alone, as you may
guess. It was up three stairs, that's true, and there was none of that
elegance that marked the dinner of the year before; but it was merry,
and happy, and bright; it was a generous, honest, hearty Christmas
dinner, that it was, although I do wish the widow hadn't talked so much
about the mysterious way a turkey had been left at her door the night
before.
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