e they's things to use that ain't never been used yet.... Oh, I
donno. Nor I guess you donno. But let's us find out!"

IX

Christmas Week came.

Cities by thousands made preparation. Great shops took on vast cargoes
of silk and precious things and seemed ready to sail about, distributing
gifts to the town, and thought better of it, and let folk come in
numbers to them to pay toll for what they took. Banks opened their doors
and poured out, now a little trickling stream of pay envelopes, now a
torrent of green and gold. Flower stalls drew tribute from a million
pots of earth where miracles had been done. Pastry counters, those mock
commissariats, delicately masking as servants to necessity, made ready
their pretty pretences to nutrition. The woods came moving in--acres of
living green, taken in their sleep, their roots left faithful to a
tryst with the sap, their tops summoned to bear an hybrid fruitage. From
cathedrals rose the voices of children now singing little carols and
hymns in praise of the Christ-child, now speaking little verses in
praise of the saint, Nicholas, now clamouring for little new
possessions. And afar from the fields that lay empty about the clustered
roofs of towns came a chorus of voices of the live things, beast and
fowl, being offered up in the gorgeous pagan rites of the day.

Hither and yonder in every city the grown townsfolk ran. The most had
lists of names,--Grace, Margaret, Laura, Alice, Miriam, John, Philip,
Father, Mother,--beautiful names and of rich portent, so that,
remembering the time, one would have said that these were entered there
with some import of special comradeship, of being face to face, of
having realized in little what will some day be true in large. But on
looking closer, the lists were found to have quite other connotations:
as, Grace, bracelet; Margaret, spangled scarf; Laura, chafing-dish;
Philip, smoking set; Father (Memo: Ask mother what she thinks he'd
like). And every name, it seemed, stood for some bestowal of new
property, mostly of luxuries, and chiefly of luxuries of decoration. And
the minds of the buying adults were like lakes played upon by clouds and
storm birds and lightning, and, to be sure, many stars--but all in
unutterable confusion.

Also from the cargo-laden shops there came other voices in thousands,
but these were mostly answers. And when one, understanding Christmas,
listened to hear what part in it these behind the counter played,