And the air went to one's head
like wine!
So I tramped past the Pattersons'. The old man, a grumpy old fellow, was
going to the barn with a pail on his arm.
"Merry Christmas," I shouted.
He looked around at me wonderingly and did not reply. At the corners I
met the Newton boys so wrapped in tippets that I could see only their
eyes and the red ends of their small noses. I passed the Williams's
house, where there was a cheerful smoke in the chimney and in the window
a green wreath with a lively red bow. And I thought how happy everyone
must be on a Christmas morning like this! At the hill bridge who should
I meet but the Scotch Preacher himself, God bless him!
"Well, well, David," he exclaimed heartily, "Merry Christmas."
I drew my face down and said solemnly:
"Dr. McAlway, I am on a most serious errand."
"Why, now, what's the matter?" He was all sympathy at once.
"I am out in the highways trying to compel the poor of this
neighbourhood to come to our feast."
The Scotch Preacher observed me with a twinkle in his eye.
"David," he said, putting his hand to his mouth as if to speak in my
ear, "there is a poor man you will na' have to compel."
"Oh, you don't count," I said. "You're coming anyhow.
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