But Christmas was very close now, and must somehow be endured.

“When are you boys going to Mill Valley for greens?” asked Susan, on the Saturday before the holiday.

“Would you?” Philip asked slowly.  But immediately he added, “How about to-morrow, Jimsky?”

“Gee, yes!” said Jim eagerly.  “We’ll trim up the house like always, won’t we, Betts?”

“Just like always,” Betts answered.

Susan and Betsey fussed with mince-meat and frosted cookies; Susan accomplished remarkably good, if rather fragile, pumpkin pies.  The four decorated the down-stairs rooms with ropes of fragrant green.  The expressman came and came and came again; Jimmy returned twice a day laden from the Post Office; everyone remembered the Carrolls this year.

Anna and Philip and Billy came home together, at midday, on Christmas Eve.  Betsey took immediate charge of the packages they brought; she would not let so much as a postal card be read too soon.  Billy had spent many a Christmas Eve with the Carrolls; he at once began to run errands and carry up logs as a matter of course.

A conference was held over the turkey, lying limp in the center of the kitchen table.  The six eyed him respectfully.

“Oughtn’t this be firm?” asked Anna, fingering a flexible breast-bone.

“No-o—­” But Susan was not very sure.  “Do you know how to stuff them, Anna?”

“Look in the books,” suggested Philip.

“We did,” Betsey said, “but they give chestnut and mushroom and sweet potato—­I don’t know how Mother does it!”

“You put crumbs in a chopping bowl,” began Susan, uncertainly, “at least, that’s the way Mary Lou did—­”

“Why crumbs in a chopping bowl, crumbs are chopped already?” William observed sensibly.

“Well—­” Susan turned suddenly to Betsey, “Why don’t you trot up and ask, Betts?” she suggested.

“Oh, Sue!” Betsey’s healthy color faded.  “I can’t!” She turned appealing eyes to Anna.  Anna was looking at her thoughtfully.

“I think that would be a good thing to do,” said Anna slowly.  “Just put your head in the door and say, ’Mother, how do you stuff a turkey?’”

“But—­but—­” Betsey began.  She got down from the table and went slowly on her errand.  The others did not speak while they waited for her return.

“Hot water, and butter, and herbs, and half an onion chopped fine!” announced Betts returning.

“Did she—­did she seem to think it was odd, Betts?”

“No, she just answered—­like she would have before.  She was lying down, and she said ‘I’m glad you’re going to have a turkey—–­’”

“What!” said Anna, turning white.

“Yes, she did!  She said ‘You’re all good, brave children!’”

“Oh, Betts, she didn’t!”

“Honest she did, Phil—­” Betsey said aggrievedly, and Anna kissed her between laughter and tears.

“But this is quite the best yet!” Susan said, contentedly, as she ransacked the breadbox for crumbs.