avoiding the big Christmas celebration. The children must not suspect her of subtle motives; besides, it was easier for her.
The shop windows, trimmed now with Christmas red and evergreen; the counters laden with holiday gifts and children's toys galore; the sidewalks crowded with bare little fir-trees, ready for the joyful trimming and starring and candle-lighting—Oh, no! she could not bear to witness all the happy getting-ready time, and take no part. It was easier to stay in bed; besides, perhaps something really was the matter with her—all the children seemed to think so.
"That's right, Mrs. Jesse," she would smile wanly and longingly from her pillows at the younger woman, as she sat and sewed beside her in mid-December, "that's right. Just you get all the happiness and joy you can out of these holidays when your children are young. Just you do. I've changed my ideas, as you know, this Summer. When your babies are all grown up you mustn't try to drive them too hard. You've got to just leave them alone some. Remember that, my dear. No," she went on cheerily, "no, we aren't having a tree this year. It's the first time since Junior was a tiny little baby. Just think—forty-five years. But it's a great relief to the children. Do? Oh, I've no idea
