“No,” said Mr. Scraggs.  “But this is the twenty-fourth of December, and I was thinkin’ of another twenty-fourth of December.  I began something then that come out rather different from what you’d naturally expect.  That ain’t so remarkable, for nothin’ I ever had any hand in ever come out as anybody expected—­barrin’ Mrs. Scraggs, who, individuool, cool, calm, and collectively, always says, ‘Just what I expected, exactly,’ and any man that says any one or all of the Mrs. Scraggses bound to me by ties of matrimony by the Mormon Church, party of the first part, Mrs. Scraggs, party of the second part, and E. G. W. Scraggs, party of the third, last, and of no consequence whatsomever part—­any man, I repeat, who says Mrs. Scraggs would lie is no friend of her’n and ought to be told so.  But to restrain a nateral indignation at the hint of such a charge and to proceed:  I want to say that this particular twenty-fourth of December I’m talkin’ about came out so much entirely different from what I expected that I can’t seem to forget it.

“There’s something about Christmas that warms the heart and makes the noblest and best of our sentiments to come to the surface for a breath of fresh air.  Yes, sir, there is, and they passed it around in Peg-leg’s place that afternoon so hot, sweet, and plentiful that I hadn’t been there more’n two hours before my feelin’s had rose to such a pitch that I went out and bought each’ and every Mrs. Scraggs a pair of number ten rubber boots, a pound of raisins, and an accordion.  The boots was useful; the raisins, of course, stood for Christmas cheer; but what in thunder I bought the accordions for I never knew afterward.  I’d give a ten-dollar bill this minute to know.  It was a tremenjus idee at the time, but that’s all I recall of it.  I sent the hull shootin’-match around to the house by a small boy with a hand sleigh and a card sayin’ ’Peace on Earth’ on top of it.

“After this, havin’ done my duty by my fambly, as I saw it at the time, I wandered into Mr. George Hewlitt’s emporium of chance, armed with six iron dollars and a gold collar-button.  They took my six dollars away from me as though I wasn’t fit to be trusted with ’em, and then I sprung my collar-button for another stack.  As far as I could see, that collar-button was all that stood between me and a long, wide, thick, and cold winter.  Hows’mever, there was no unmanly tears in the eyes of the support of the noble house of Scraggs when he plunked the lot on the corner.

“‘Slave,’ says I to the dealer in the language I learned shiftin’ scenes for a week, back in old St. Looey.  ‘Slave!’ says I.  ’I’ve stacked my life agin the cast in your eye, and I will stand the razzle of your dyestuff.  Shoot!  You’re faded!’

“And he was, too.  I caught that turn and about every other in the deal; split him in half on the last card, and from that on I ripped him up the back and knocked chunks off’n him until everybody got interested.