d
they'd had it, and she hoped they'd enjoyed it, which only made matters
worse; and altogether it was a dark day, the only joy of it being that
fearful one snatched by John, Walter, Susan, Fanny, and Cora Cordelia
from the undoubted excellence of the roast.

Of course there was an assortment of minor difficulties. The smoke from
the Biltons' kitchen blew in through the windows of the Giltons'
sitting-room when the wind was in one direction, and, when it was in the
other, many of the clothes from the Giltons' clothesline were blown into
the Biltons' yard, and Fanny, Susan, or Cora Cordelia had to be sent out
to pick them up and drop them over the fence again, which Mrs. Bilton
said was very wearing, as of course it must have been. Things like this
were always happening, but matters reached a climax when it came to the
dog. It wasn't a large dog, but it was a tiresome one. It got up early
in the morning and barked. Now we all know that early rising is a good
thing and honorable among all men, but it is something that ought to be
done quietly, out of regard to the weaker vessels; and a dog that barks
between five and seven in the morning, continuously, certainly ought to
be suppressed, even if it be necessary to use force. Everybody agreed
with the Biltons about that,--everybody except the Giltons themselves,
who, by some one of nature's freaks, didn't mind it. Mrs. Bilton often
said she wished Mrs. Gilton could be a light sleeper for a week and see
what it was like. So, too, everybody thought that Mr. Bilton had right
on his side when he complained that this same dog came into his yard,
being apparently indifferent to any coolness between the estate owners,
and ran over a bed of geraniums and one thing and another, that was the
small Bilton offset to the Gilton bench and ball. But when one morning,
for the first time, that dog remained quiet and restful, and was found
cold and poisoned, and Mr. Gilton was loud in his accusations of the
Bilton boys and their father, public opinion wavered for a moment. After
that accident, no member of either family spoke to any member of the
other. That was the way matters stood the day before Christmas.

* * * * *

It was snowing hard, and the afternoon grew dark rapidly, and the
whirling flakes pursued a blinding career. In spite of that, everybody
was out doing the last thing. Mrs. Gilton was not, to be sure. Of course
they would have a big dinner, but