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“Humph,” muttered Aunt Belindy, “dem Grammont gals be glad to see any t’ing dat got breeches on; lef ’lone good lookin’ piece like dat Grégor.” “Grégor, he neva sey, ‘Tank you dog,’ jis’ fling he big dolla down on de counta an’ ’low ‘don’t want no dinna: gimme some w’iskey.’
W’at was de ’casion o’ dat long delay?” “De ’casion? W’y man alive, I couldn’t git a dog gone soul in de town to wait on me.” “Dat boy kin lie, yas,” said Aunt Belindy, “God A’mighty knows ever time I ben to Centaville dem sto’ keepas ain’t done a blessed t’ing but settin’ down.” “Settin’ down Lord! dey warn’t settin’ down to-day; you heah me.”
Niver a moment but that lass was working at some t’ing. Oh, I wonder what she’s doun’ and finking this Christmas.” “Don’t you worry,” Maida always said. “Billy’ll find her for you yet—he said he would.” Maida, herself, was giving, for the first time in her experience, a good deal of thought to Christmas time.
Jis’ le’me see Mose han’le dat ’ar flat onct: Jis’ le’me. He lan’ you down to de Mouf ’fo’ you knows it.” “Let me tell you, Nathan,” said Hosmer, looking at his watch, “say you wait a quarter of an hour and if no one else comes, we’ll cross Aunt Agnes anyway.” “Dat ’nudda t’ing ef you wants to go back, suh.”
“Granny,” Billy asked immediately, “if you could have your choice of all the Christmas gifts in the world, which one would you choose?” An expression of bewilderment came into Granny’s bright blue eyes. “A Christmas gift, Misther Billy,” she said in an uncertain tone; “I cudn’t t’ink of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little Annie wid me.”
Billy’s face was all screwed up, but it was not with laughter. “Did you ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?” “Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing he cud—the foine man that he is. Advertisements and detayktives, but wid all his money, he cudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d pray to the saints to let me die.”
“Oh, Granny,” she sobbed, “Laura Lathrop says that half the children don’t like my shop and they’re going down to Main Street to buy things. What shall I do? What shall I do?” “There, there, acushla,” Granny said soothingly, taking the trembling little girl on to her lap. “Don’t worry about anny t’ing that wan says. ’Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grown folks says.”
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