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Updated: June 28, 2025
Ulysses S. G. Budlong does not celebrate her Christmasses behind closed doors or rather she did not: a strange change came over her this last Christmas. She used to open her doors wide metaphorically, that is; for there was a storm-door with a spring on it to keep the cold draught out of the hall. As regular as Christmas itself was the oh-quite-informal reception Mrs.
Kweskin could not manage it even though his Christian name was Moses. So Mr. Clute blamed Mrs. Budlong for yet another expense. Husbands all over town were blaming Mrs. Budlong for running their families into fool extravagances. Mothers were blaming her for dragging them round by the nose and leaving them no rest. But everybody in town resentfully obeyed Mrs. Budlong, though Mrs.
When she fell asleep she was writing "A Yuly Newmas and a Happy X-Year to Swally Sezey." The delivery man pounded on the door and wild-eyed Budlong let him in from the night. The man whispered that he'd have to start at once if he was to make the rounds before his horses laid down on him. Mr. Budlong called his wife, but she did not answer.
Budlong closed his front door, a thread of crimson spun out along the East as if somebody were going to wrap the whole world up in a red string. He did not want it. He yawned at it. An hour or so later, Ulie awoke and sat up with a start. To his intense confusion, he bumped the top of his little skull on the bottom of his little bed.
"Yes; but really," replied the Honorable Budlong Dinks, "really you know it would be impossible. Mr. Van Boozenberg is a highly respectable man really we should lapse into chaos," and the honorable gentleman rubbed his hands with perfect suavity. "When did we emerge?" asked Lawrence Newt, with such a kindly glimmer in his eyes, that Mr.
But o' course she couldn't afford to buy those kind of things for herself now when she's got to remember all her dear friends, and she runs on and on and the old batch growls, 'Stung again! and goes to Strouther and Streckfuss's and tells Mr. Streckfuss to send Mrs. Budlong that blamed bronze clock she was admiring. And that's how she gets things. I could do it myself if I'd a mind to." Mr.
"My rest was broken." Mrs. Budlong turned her eyes significantly toward the far end of the veranda. "Did you hear that terrible racket?" demanded Mr. Budlong of Wallie. "Not so loud, 'C. D.," admonished Mrs. Budlong. Mrs. Budlong ran the letters together so that strangers often had the impression she was calling her husband "Seedy," though the name was as unsuitable as well could be, since Mr.
Budlong, who had made "his" in white lead and paint and kept a chauffeur and a limousine, felt that his disapproval would mean something to the proprietor. "Oh, Wallie!" Wallie felt relieved when he saw Mrs. Henry Appel beckoning him. As he was on his way to Mrs. Appel Miss Mattie Gaskett clutched at his arm and detained him. "Did you see the robins this morning, Wallie?" "Are they here?"
The cook quite evidently knew his power, for when Mrs. Budlong carried out her threat Wallie could only reply that he dared not antagonize Hicks, since to replace him would cause delay, inconvenience, and additional expense to everybody. Mrs. Budlong rested all her chins upon her cameo breastpin and received the explanation coldly. "Verra well," she said, incisively, "verra, verra well!
Budlong gave to mitigate the ineffable stupidity of Christmas afternoon: that dolorous period when one meditates the ancient platitude that anticipation is better than realization; and suddenly understands why it is blesseder to give than to receive: because one does not have to wear what one gives away. On Christmas Mrs.
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