Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

“ Even with the third start and the third arrival finally accomplished, the crafty cat stood waiting for her on the steps of the Rattle-Pane House,--back arched, fur bristled, spitting like some new kind of weather-cock at the storm in the shed-yard, and had to be thrust quite unceremoniously into a much too small covered basket and lashed down with yards and yards of tinsel that was needed quite definitely for something else.--It isn't just the way of the Transgressor that's hard.--Nobody's way is any too easy! ”

“ If Flame had never in her life admired the Lay Reader she certainly would have admired him now for the sheer cold-blooded foresight which had presaged the inevitable reaction of the dogs upon the mush and the mush upon the dogs. With a single sniff at his heels, a prod of paws in his stomach, the onslaught swerved—and passed. ”

“ Why, really, Miss Flame, I couldn't countenance any sort of mock service! Even just for--for quaintness,--even for Christmas quaintness!"
"Mock service?" puzzled Flame. "Bibles?... Oh, I don't want you to preach out of 'em," she hastened perfectly amiably to explain. "All I want them for is to plump-up the chairs.... The seats you see are too low for the dogs.... Oh, I suppose dictionaries would do," she compromised reluctantly. "Only dictionaries are always so scarce."
Obediently the Lay Reader raked the parlor book-cases for "plump-upable" books. ”

“ With a gentle murmur of dissent, Flame's Father stepped forward and laid his arm across the young girl's shoulder. "She--she may be looking at him," he said. "But I'm almost perfectly sure that she doesn't ... see him."
"Why, whatever in the world do you mean?" demanded his wife. "Whatever in the world does anybody mean? If there was only another woman here! A mature ... sane woman! A----" With a flare of accusation she turned from Flame to the Master of the House. "This Miss Flora that my daughter spoke of,--where is she? I insist on seeing her! ”

“ Stepping aside for a single thrilling moment to study the full effect of her handiwork, the first psychological puzzle of her life smote sharply across her senses. Namely, that you never really get the whole fun out of anything unless you are absolutely alone.--But the very first instant you find yourself absolutely alone with a Really-Good-Time you begin to twist and turn and hunt about for somebody Very Special to share it with you!
The only "Very Special" person that Flame could think of was "Bertrand the Lay Reader." ”

“ With an impulse quite surprising even to herself Flame thrust both hands into the Lay Reader's clasp.
"You _are_ nice, aren't you?" she quickened. In an instant of weakness one hand crept up to the blinding bandage, and recovered its honor as instantly. "Oh, I do wish I _could_ see you," sighed Flame. "You're so good-looking! Even Mother thinks you're _so_ good-looking!... Though she does get awfully worked up, of course, about your 'amorous eyes'!" ”

“ Never in her whole little life having owned a door-key to her own house it seemed quite an adventure in itself to be walking thus possessively through an unfamiliar hall into an absolutely unknown kitchen and goodness knew what on either side and beyond. ”

“ For whom, then? Some incredible wight who, worse than late--isn't going to show up at all?... Heaven sent, I consider myself.... How else could so little a girl have managed so big a turkey?"
"There ... isn't any ... carving knife," whispered Flame.
The tears were glistening on her cheeks now instead of just in her eyes. A less observing man than Delcote might have thought the tears were really for the carving knife.
"What? No carving knife?" he roared imperiously. "And the house guaranteed 'furnished'?" Very furiously he began to hunt all around the kitchen in the most impossible places. ”

“ Your Father had to use every kind of an argument."
"Every ... kind," mused her Father. "He doesn't even deny being in the house," continued her Mother, "being in my closet, ... being caught with a--a--"
"With a silver carving knife and fork in his hand," intercepted the Lay Reader hastily.
"Yet all the time he persists," frowned Flame's Mother, "that there is some one in the world who can give a perfectly good explanation if only,--he won't even say 'he or she' but 'it', if only 'it' would." ”

“ If she'd only be content to chew the corner of the piano cover! But when she insists on inhaling it, too!"
"Miss Flora?" gasped the Lay Reader. "Is this a Mad House?"
"Miss Flora is a--a dog," confided Flame a bit coolly. "I neglected--it seems--to state that this is a dog-party that I'm having."
"_Dogs_?" winced the Lay Reader. "Will they bite?"
"Only if you don't trust them," confided Flame.
"But it's so hard to trust a dog that will bite you if you don't trust him," frowned the Lay Reader. "It makes such a sort of a--a vicious circle, as it were." ”

“ Perfectly simply too as the old Butler had promised, the four dog dishes, heaping to the brim, loomed in prim line upon the kitchen table waiting for distribution.
"U-m-m," sniffed Flame. "Nothing but mush! _Mush_!--All over the world to-day I suppose--while their masters are feasting at other people's houses on puddings and--and cigarettes! How the poor darlings must suffer! ”

“ In a single year I've lost health,--money,--most everything I own in the world except my man and my dogs!"
"They're ... good dogs," testified Flame.
"And the Doctor's sent me here for six months," persisted Delcote, "before he'll even hear of my plunging into things again!"
"Six months is a--a good long time," said Flame. "If you'd turn the hems we could make yellow curtains for the parlor in no time at all!"
"W--we?" stammered Delcote.
"M--Mother," said Flame. "... It's a long time since any dogs lived in the Rattle-Pane House."
"Rattle-_Brain_ house?" bridled Delcote. ”

“ Nothing very much! No more, no less indeed, than passes through any company at the introduction of purely extraneous matter. From the empty plate which she had commandeered as a temporary pillow the Yellow Canary lifted an interrogative beak.... That was all! At Flame's left, the White-Haired Rabbit emitted an incongruous bark.... Scarcely worth reporting! Across the table the Giraffe thumped a white, plumy tail. Thoughtfully the Parrot's hooked nose slanted slightly to one side.
"Oh, I wish Bertrand would come!" fretted Flame. "Maybe this time he'll notice my 'Christmas Crossing' sign!" ”

“ With a little hand that trembled perfectly palpably Flame reached back to the arm of the big carved chair for support.
"Why--why, but Mr. Delcote is an old man," she gasped. "I'm almost sure he's an old man." ”

“ Just books,--illustrated poems usually, very wholesome pickles,--and always a huge motto to recommend, "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men."—To "Men"?--Why not to Women?--Why not at least to "_Dogs_?" questioned Flame quite abruptly.
Taken all in all it was not a Christmas Morning of sentiment but a Christmas morning of _works_! Kitchen works, mostly! Useful, flavorous adventures with a turkey! A somewhat nervous sally with an apple pie! Intermittently, of course, a few experiments with flour paste! ”

“ A little bit listlessly Flame dragged down the bandage from her eyes.
"It must be the creaks on the stairs that make it so awfully lonely all of a sudden," argued Flame. "It must be because the dogs snore so.... No mere man could make it so empty." With a precipitous nudge of the memory she dashed to the door and helloed to the fast retreating figure. "Oh, Bertrand! Bertrand!" she called, "I got sort of mixed up. ”

“ And each arrival complicated by the yelpings and leapings and general cavortings of four dogs who didn't see any reason in the world why they shouldn't escape from their forced imprisonment in the shed-yard and prance home with her. ”