time I find a record of a day of
that sort.

Began this morning by breaking a lamp chimney before I was dressed.
I continued by stepping on Pussum's tail on the way down-stairs in
the dark, which caused me to slide and scrape the rest of the way.
Elizabeth came to the head of the stairs with a fresh lamp and the
remark that she thought I had given up using such language. In
applying the liniment I upset the greasy stuff on the living-room
rug and it required an hour's brisk rubbing to get it out. Not
being satisfied with this, I turned over a bottle of ink when I sat
down after breakfast to dash off an important note before
mail-time. Nobody could think consecutively after a series like
that, so I went out for some fresh air and decided to clean up a
rough corner by the brook. I scratched my nose, strained my wrist,
and mashed my finger with a stone. Only a 100-per-cent. Christian
could remain calm on such a day. To-morrow I shall go warily and
softly, and really begin work.

I did, in fact, against all intention and good judgment, begin one
evening just about bedtime, and worked until quite late. It was not a
bad beginning, either, as such things go--at least, I have tried harder
and made worse ones. After that the condensing process went better. I
could any time find excuses for not working, but I did not hunt for
them so anxiously. I was pretty fairly under way by Christmas, and the
room behind the chimney had all at once become the most alluring place
in the world.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER SIX

I

_The magic of the starlit tree_

[Illustration]

We have always had a tree for Christmas. Long ago, far back in our early
flat-dwelling days, we had our first one, and I remember we shopped for
it Christmas Eve among the bright little Harlem groceries where they had
them ranged outside, picking very carefully for one symmetrical in shape
and small of size and price, to fit our tiny flat and, oh yes, indeed,
our casual income. I remember, too, that when it was finally bought I
put it on my shoulder with a proud feeling, and we drifted farther,
picking up the trimmings--the tinsel and gay ornaments, the small gifts
for the one very small person who had so recently come to live with us,
discussing each purchase with due deliberation, going home at last with
rather more than we could afford, I fear, for I recall further that we
did