A lighted lantern in his hand, he went to a small pine he had already
marked and chopped it cleanly. From behind the cabin he took a bucket of
sand that he had saved for this purpose, and thrust the tree upright in
it. When he re-entered the cabin, popcorn snapped in Emma's skillet and
for one of the few times since leaving the farm, her trunk was open.
There were parcels and jars on the table. Her new scarf worn proudly on
her shoulders, Emma looked up from the fireplace.
"Canned pumpkin." She indicated the jars. "I brought it all this way so
we can have pumpkin pie tomorrow."
"Oh boy!" Joe smacked his lips.
The cabin seemed to have come alive with the spirit of Christmas. The
rafters had a softer glow. Through their minds ran strains of gay music
they had heard, but it was so real that it seemed to be heard again in
the cabin.