The work finished, they drew their chairs to
the stove, and filled their pipes, still talking.
"Well, well," said Charlie, after the laugh occasioned by one of Nels'
droll stories had subsided. "It's nice to think of those old times. I'd
hate to have been one of these kids that can't have any fun. Christmas
or any other time,"
"Ay gass dere ain't anybody much dot don'd have someding dis tams a
year."
"Oh, yes, there are, Nels! You bet there are!"
Charlie nodded at his partner with serious conviction.
"Now, there's the Roneys," he waved his pipe over his shoulder. "The
old man told me to-night when I was up after the cows that he's sold
all the crops except what they need for feedin'--wheat, and corn, and
everything, and some hogs besides--and ain't got hardly enough now for
feed and clothes for all that family. The rent and the lumber he had to
buy to build the new barn after the old one burnt ate up the money like
fury. He kind of laughed, and said he guessed the children wouldn't get
much Christmas this year. I didn't think about it's being so close when
he told me."
"No Christmas!" Nels' round eyes widened with astonishment. "Ay tank
dose been pooty bad!" He studied the subject for a few moments, his
stolid face suddenly grown thoughtful. Charlie stared at the stove. Far
away by the river a lonely coyote set up his quick, howling yelp.
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