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It had gone all over both Turkey Tracks that Sam Overholt declared he would never darken Pap Overholt's door again Pap Overholt, who had tried to make a pauper of him, loading him with gifts and benefits, like he was shif'less, no-'count white trash!
Sammy had "met up with" punishment at last; he had encountered discipline; and the change it wrought upon him was almost beyond belief. The spell which this winning, wayward, perverse creature had laid upon Pap Overholt's too affectionate, too indulgent nature was dissolved in that terrible hour.
When a man puts a black bottle to his lips, tips it up, and takes down several good pulls almost without drawing breath, most people suppose that he is a person of vicious habits. In Overholt's case most people would have been wrong. The black bottle contained cold tea; it was strong, but it was only tea, and that is the finest drink in the world for an inventor or an author to work on.
Now, although Overholt's cottage was a miserable place for a professor who had lived very comfortably and well in a College town, and although the thirteen-year-old boy could remember several pretty trees, lighted up with coloured candles and gleaming with tinsel and gilt apples, they both felt that this was going to be the greatest Christmas in their lives, because the motionless Motor was going to move, and that would mean everything most of all to both of them, the end of the mother's exile, and her speedy home-coming.
Each one told it afterward in his own way, declaring that not while he lived could the remembrance of it pass from his mind. Pap Overholt's tall figure leaped crouching through the low doorway, and next instant lifted the blazing brand high above his head; the others followed, doing the same. Pap Overholt's mind refused at first to understand.
And everybody said "Amen" very cheerfully and fell to. It rained in New York and it "snowed slush" in Connecticut, after its manner, and the world was a very dreary place, especially all around the dilapidated cottage where everything was going to pieces, including John Henry Overholt's last hopes.
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