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"Oh, Emarine, here comes old gran'ma Eliot herself! Run an' open the door fer 'er. She's limpin' worse 'n usual." Emarine flew to the door. Grandma Eliot was one of the few people she loved. She was large and motherly. She wore a black dress and shawl and a funny bonnet, with a frill of white lace around her brow. Emarine's face softened when she kissed her.
Sech a wishful look took holt o' her when I pictchered her dinner over here at Emarine's. I can't seem to forget it. Goodness! I must go. I'm on my way to Sidonie's, an' she'll be comin' after me if I ain't on time." When Mrs. Eliot had gone limping down the path, Mrs. Endey said: "You got your front room red up, Emarine?" "No; I ain't had time to red up anything." "Well, I'll do it.
I don't spunk up like I ust to. No, he didn't go to Peterson's he's gawn right on. My land! I wonder 'f it ain't old gran'ma Eliot: she had a bad spell no, he didn't turn that corner. I can't think where he's goin' to!" She sat down with a sigh of defeat. A smile glimmered palely across Emarine's face and was gone. "Maybe if you'd go up in the antic you could see better," she suggested, dryly.
An' I told her to think what a nice time she'd have here 't Emarine's to-morrow." Mrs. Endey smiled. "What she say to that?" "She didn't say much. I could see she was thankful, though, she had a son's to go to. She said she pitied all poor wretches that had to set out their Christmas alone. Poor old lady! she ain't got much spunk left. She's all broke down. But I cheered her up some.
She's kep' a stiff upper lip an' told folks she al'ays expected to live alone when Orville got married. Emarine's all worked up. I believe the Lord hisself must 'a' sent gran'ma Eliot here to talk like an angel unawares. I bet she'd go an' ask Mis' Parmer over here to dinner if she wa'n't afraid I'd laff at her fer knucklin' down. I'll have to aggravate her.
They most carry me on two chips. My son's wife, Sidonie, she nearly runs her feet off waitin' on me. She can't do enough fer me. My, Mrs. Endey, you don't know what a comfort a daughter-in-law is when you get old an' feeble!" Emarine's face turned red. She went to the table and stood with her back to the older women; but her mother's sharp eyes observed that her ears grew scarlet.
"It's Miss Presly," said Emarine, resentfully, under her breath. "Old gossip!" " goin' to have a fine dinner, I hear," Miss Presly was saying. "Turkey with oyster dressin', an' cranberries, an' mince an' pun'kin pie, an' reel plum puddin' with brandy poured over 't an' set afire, an' wine dip, an' nuts an' raisins, an' wine itself to wind up on. Emarine's a fine cook.
I'm gettin' cranky 's I get older, an' sometimes I'm reel cross an' sassy to her; but she jest laffs at me, an' then comes an' kisses me, an' I'm all right ag'in. It's a blessin' right from God to have a daughter-in-law like that." The knife in Emarine's hand slipped, and she uttered a little cry. "Hurt you?" demanded her mother, sternly. Emarine was silent, and did not turn. "Cut you, Emarine?
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