Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch
was a restless, discontented look in her eyes that proved only too plainly that her Christmas was not a happy one.
"I wish it was night," she said. "I hate Christmas afternoon! Mother is asleep; it's too early for callers. I believe I 'll go down to the Cabbage Patch."
Aunt Chloe stuck out her lip and rolled her eyes in deprecation.
"Don' you do it, honey. What you wanter be foolin' 'round wif dat po' white trash fer? Why don' you set heah by de fiah an' bleach yer han's fer de party to-might?"
"Bother the old party!" said Lucy, impatiently. She had begun disobeying Aunt Chloe when she was a very little girl.
Fifteen minutes later she was tramping through the snow, her cheeks glowing and her spirits rising. The Wiggses,
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