Well, this beats all!" he said. "Amos, lad, thee take hold. Thou's
had a fair innings: give thy dad a chance."

Where the little Goodenoughs put the ham and the sponge cake, the tarts
and the trifle, the red jelly and the yellow jelly and the jelly with
the pine-apple in it I do not pretend to know. They expanded visibly,
and when the youngest grandchild, a cherubic infant of three, leaned
back and sighed, and whispered with tears in his voice, "Reggie can't
eat no more, muvver," I felt relieved.

It was over at last and the table cleared in a twinkling. Ben whisked
away the remnants of the ham into the larder. The women folk carried
the crockery into the scullery, and whilst they were engaged in washing
it up the boys disappeared into remote places with the fragments of the
feast, and Mother Hubbard swept the crumbs away and folded the cloth.

"Now," said Reggie, with another little sigh, but with just a suspicion
of sunshine in his eyes, "now we'se goin' to p'ay, an 'ave ze pwesents
off ze Kwismastwee."

And so we did. Amos, as the eldest son at home, lit the candles, and
Grandpa distributed the gifts, which were insignificant enough from the
monetary point of view, but weighted in every case with the affection
and goodwill of the burly farmer and his wife. There was even a box of
chocolates for me, and with its aid I succeeded in winning the heart of
the melancholy Reggie.

Then came the games. I wish Rose and the boarders at No. 8 could have
seen the demure Miss Holden of former days walking round and round a
big circle, one hand in Reggie's and the other clasped by a red-cheeked
farmer, whilst a dozen voices sang, and hers as loudly as any:

"The farmer's dog was in the yard,
And Bingo was his name-O!"

Then came the mad scramble of "Shy Widow" and the embarrassments of the
"Postman's Knock," though nobody had letters for me, except Reggie, who
had one--very sticky and perfumed with chocolate--and Susie's little
daughter, Maud, who gave me three, very shyly, but accompanied by an
affectionate hug, which I returned. After this, crackers, with all
their accompaniments of paper caps and aprons, and by the time these
had been worn and exchanged and torn the youngsters were clamouring for
supper. Supper! Ye gods!

When this repast was ended and the younger members of the party had
been packed off to bed--for only Mother Hubbard and I were to leave the
farmer's hospitable home that night--some o