Across the Years

"'Tain't more 'n a month ter Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?" said the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously resigned sigh."Yes, I know, Samuel," returned his wife, sending a swift glance over the top of her glasses.If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign. "Hm!" he murmured. "I've got tenneckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers you got?--eh?""Oh, Samuel!" remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly."I don't care," asserted Samuel with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in his chair. "Seems asif we might get somethin' for Christmas 'sides slippers an' neckerchiefs. Jest 'cause we ain'tso young as we once was ain't no sign that we've lost all our faculty for enj'yment!""But, Samuel, they're good an' kind, an' want ter give us somethin'," faltered Lydia Ann;"and--""Yes, I know they're good an' kind," cut in Samuel wrathfully. "We've got three children, an'each one brings us a Christmas present ev'ry year. They've got so they do it reg'lar now, jestthe same as they--they go ter bed ev'ry night," he finished, groping a little for his simile."An' they put jest about as much thought into it, too," he added grimly."My grief an' conscience, Samuel, --how can you talk so!" gasped the little woman opposite."Well, they do," persisted Samuel. "They buy a pair o' slippers an' a neckerchief, an' tuck'em into their bag for us--an' that's done; an' next year they do the same--an' it's done again.Oh, I know I'm ongrateful, an' all that," acknowledged Samuel testily, "but I can't help it. I'vebeen jest ready to bile over ever since last Christmas, an' now I have biled over. Look ahere, Lyddy Ann, we ain't so awful old. You're seventy-three an' I'm seventy-six, an' we'repert as sparrers, both of us. Don't we live here by ourselves, an' do most all the work insidean' outside the house?""Yes," nodded Lydia Ann timidly."Well, ain't there somethin' you can think of sides slippers you'd like for Christmas--'specially as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?"Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. "Why, of course, Samuel," she began hesitatingly, "bed-slippersare very nice, an'--""So's codfish!" interrupted Samuel in open scorn. "Come," he coaxed, "jest supposin' we wasyoungsters again, a-tellin' Santa Claus what we wanted. What would you ask for?"4Lydia Ann laughed. Her cheeks grew pink, and the lost spirit of her youth sent a suddensparkle to her eyes. "You'd laugh, dearie. I ain't a-goin' ter tell.""I won't--'pon honor!""But it's so silly," faltered Lydia Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink. "Me-- an old woman!""Of course," agreed Samuel promptly. "It's bound ter be silly, ye know, if we want anythin'but slippers an' neckerchiefs," he added with a chuckle. "Come--out with it, Lyddy Ann.""It's--it's a tree.""Dampers and doughnuts!" ejaculated Samuel, his jaw dropping. "A tree!""There, I knew you'd laugh," quavered Lydia Ann, catching up her knitting."Laugh? Not a bit of it!" averred Samuel stoutly. "I--I want a tree myself!""Ye see, it's just this," apologized Lydia Ann feverishly. "They give us things, of course, butthey never make anythin' of doin' it, not even ter tyin' 'em up with a piece of red ribbon.They just slip into our bedroom an' leave 'em all done up in brown paper an' we find 'emafter they're gone. They mean it all kind, but I'm so tired of gray worsted and sensiblethings. Of course I can't have a tree, an' I don't suppose I really want it; but I'd likesomethin' all pretty an' sparkly an'--an' silly, you know. An' there's another thing I want--ice cream. An' I want to make myself sick eatin' it, too, --if I want to; an' I want little pinkan'-white sugar pep'mints hung in bags. Samuel, can't you see how pretty a bag o' pinkpep'mints 'd be on that green tree? An'--dearie me!" broke off the little old womanbreathlessly, falling back in her chair. "How I'm runnin' on! I reckon I am in my dotage."For a moment Samuel did not rep