"No," said Mrs. Hand, speaking wistfully,--"no, we never were in the
habit of keeping Christmas at our house. Mother died when we were all
young; she would have been the one to keep up with all new ideas, but
father and grandmother were old-fashioned folks, and--well, you know
how 't was then, Miss Pendexter: nobody took much notice of the day
except to wish you a Merry Christmas."
"They did n't do much to make it merry, certain," answered Miss
Pendexter. "Sometimes nowadays I hear folks complainin' o' bein'
overtaxed with all the Christmas work they have to do."
"Well, others think that it makes a lovely chance for all that really
enjoys givin'; you get an opportunity to speak your kind feelin' right
out," answered Mrs. Hand, with a bright smile. "But there! I shall
always keep New Year's Day, too; it won't do no hurt to have an extra
day kept an' made pleasant. And there 'a many of the real old folks
have got pretty things to remember about New Year's Day."
"Aunt Cynthy Dallett 's just one of 'em," said Miss Pendexter. "She 's
always very reproachful if I don't get up to see her. Last year I
missed it, on account of a light fall o' snow that seemed to make the
walkin' too bad, an' she sent a neighbor's boy 'way down from the
mount'in to see if I was sick. Her lameness confines her to the house
altogether now, an' I have her on my mind a good deal. How anybody
does get thinkin' of those that lives alone, as they get older! I
waked up only last night with a start, thinkin' if Aunt Cynthy's house
should get afire or anything, what she would do, 'way up there all
alone. I was half dreamin', I s'pose, but I could n't seem to settle
down until I got up an' went upstairs to the north garret window to see
if I could see any light; but the mountains was all dark an' safe, same
's usual. I remember noticin' last time I was there that her chimney
needed pointin', and I spoke to her about it,--the bricks looked poor
in some places."
"Can you see the house from your north gable window?" asked Mrs. Hand,
a little absently.
"Yes 'm; it's a great comfort that I can," answered her companion. "I
have often wished we were near enough to have her make me some sort o'
signal in case she needed help. I used to plead with her to come down
and spend the winters with me, but she told me one day I might as well
try to fetch down one o' the old hemlocks, an' I believe 't was true."
"Your aunt Dallett is a very self-contained person," observed Mrs. Hand.
"Oh, very!" exclaimed the elderly niece, with a pleased look. "Aunt
Cynthy laughs, an' says she expects the time will come when age 'll
compel her to have me move up an' take care of her; and last time I was
there she looked up real funny, an' says, 'I do' know, Abby; I 'm most
afeard sometimes that I feel myself beginnin' to look for'ard to it!'
'T was a good deal, comin' from Aunt Cynthy, an' I so esteemed it."
"She ought to have you there now," said Mrs. Hand. "You 'd both make a
savin' by doin' it; but I don't expect she needs to save as much as
some. There! I know just how you both feel. I like to have my own
home an' do everything just my way too." And the friends laughed, and
looked at each other affectionately.
"There was old Mr. Nathan Dunn,--left no debts an' no money when he
died," said Mrs. Hand. "'T was over to his niece's last summer. He
had a little money in his wallet, an' when the bill for funeral
expenses come in there was just exactly enough; some item or other made
it come to so many dollars an' eighty-four cents, and, lo an' behold!
there was eighty-four cents in a little separate pocket beside the neat
fold o' bills, as if the old gentleman had known before-hand. His
niece could n't help laughin', to save her; she said the old gentleman
died as methodical as he lived. She did n't expect he had any money,
an' was prepared to pay for everything herself; she 's very well off."
"'T was funny, certain," said Miss Pendexter. "I expect he felt
comfortable, knowin' he had that money by him. 'T is a comfort, when
all's said and done, 'specially to folks that's gettin' old."
A sad look shadowed her face for an instant, and then she smiled and
rose to take leave, looking expectantly at her hostess to see if there
were anything more to be said.
"I hope to come out square myself," she said, by way of farewell
pleasantry; "but there are times when I feel doubtful."
Mrs. Hand was evidently considering something, and waited a moment or
two before she spoke. "Suppose we both walk up to see your aunt
Dallett, New Year's Day, if it ain't too windy and the snow keeps off?"
she proposed. "I could n't rise the hill if 't was a windy day. We
could take a hearty breakfast an' start in good season; I 'd rather
walk than ride, the road's so rough this time o' year."
"Oh, what a person you are to think o' things! I did so dread goin'
'way up there all alone," said Abby Pendexter. "I 'm no hand to go off
alone, an' I had it before me, so I really got to dread it. I do so
enjoy it after I get there, seein' Aunt Cynthy, an' she 's always so
much better than I expect to find her."
"Well, we 'll start early," said Mrs. Hand cheerfully; and so they
parted. As Miss Pendexter went down the foot-path to the gate, she
sent grateful thoughts back to the little sitting-room she had just
left.
"How doors are opened!" she exclaimed to herself. "Here I 've been so
poor an' distressed at beginnin' the year with nothin', as it were,
that I could n't think o' even goin' to make poor old Aunt Cynthy a
friendly call. I 'll manage to make some kind of a little pleasure
too, an' somethin' for dear Mis' Hand. 'Use what you 've got,' mother
always used to say when every sort of an emergency come up, an' I may
only have wishes to give, but I 'll make 'em good ones!"