Olive Higgins Prouty

“ Why really, when I select a present for you, Elsie, for instance, I'm wondering if it's good enough to suit mother. She makes Christmas a terrible burden—so many presents, such a lot of work and expense. Father hates it, too."
"I think," said Elsie, "one of the reasons father hates celebrations so is because mother celebrates so hard. It's making us all hate them—that is what it's doing. ”

“ Keeping alive sentiments is something like keeping alive sick cats—they've got to be let alone a lot. I thought it my duty to tell you."
"Oh, wasn't your Fourth of July party a success?" exclaimed Mrs. Jesse.
"Success, if an old woman like me has got enough youth left to learn new tricks, and I guess she has—I guess she has, Mrs. Jesse!" She ejaculated with spirit, head high, and eyes shining.
Three nights later, Elsie, braiding her long hair before the mirror in the guest-room, remarked to Winifred, lolling on the bed, "I wonder if mother is feeling well. ”

“ Jesse. That's what mothers are for, I think. I don't know anything about Mr. Jesse, but, you see, my husband is a very practical sort of person. Most men are. It's we women who have to keep alive the sentiments."
Mrs. Jesse, bending over embroidery rings, looked up and smiled. She hadn't been living in the little town very long, but already she had heard of how practical Myron Harvey was. It had been he, she recalled, who had spoken so strongly in the town-meeting about the foolish extravagance of spending money on the Fourth of July for public fireworks. ”

“ Harvey came back from Aunt Julia's, the week after Thanksgiving, she took out all her best nightgowns from her best-clothes trunk, brought them down-stairs, laid them near at hand in her bottom bureau-drawer, and prepared for an illness. She could devise no other scheme for avoiding the big Christmas celebration. The children must not suspect her of subtle motives ”

“ We've talked it over, Phil and I, and we think it's too hot for you to bother with a big dinner. You've got Winifred and Elsie there and that's plenty, such weather. We'll be over for the fireworks this evening, though."
"You'll be here at one o'clock, and don't be ridiculous, Mary," snapped Mrs. Harvey. "Why, there's a lovely breeze here, and I'm setting the table on the side porch. Tell Phil to move around and keep away from the thermometer." She hung up the receiver. "Too hot! I declare!" ”

“ When Christmas was but seven days away, and the yawning prospect of another dreary holiday like the preceding Thanksgiving stared the Harveys in the face, Linda said to Mary:
"It's like losing mother before she really goes—no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no getting-together of us all. It's unnatural and it's horrid! Oh, Mary, let's ask Dr. ”

“ I imagine there won't be any present-giving though. No presents seems to be the modern idea. By the way—you can have all our Christmas tree trimmings if you want, Mrs. Jesse. I don't believe Linda or Junior will bring their children up on Christmas trees. They won't want the trimmings."
Neither did the Harvey children know what they were going to do. The rudder to their little world seemed to be lost, with mother up-stairs sick in bed. Mother had never been sick at Christmas before. What were they going to do? They didn't know. First the little Harveys began to ask; then Elsie from New York ”

“ It's too much for you."
"Nonsense, Linda!"
"No, I mean it. That's why I'm calling so early. Really, mother—"
"Nonsense! Why, the peas are shelled already, and the salmon on the ice. You get dressed and you'll feel better."
At ten o'clock there was a telephone call from Mary. Mary was Mrs. Harvey's youngest daughter and had been married six months. She lived in the next town, six miles away. "It's ninety-two degrees, mother, in the shade," she called. "I've been talking to Phil. He's out in the hammock now, just about all in, poor boy! ”

“ And you'd better get down on your knees and thank God you've got some clay to work on too. Women are awful empty-landed without it."
She nodded, bit off her thread with a snap, reeled off a fresh length of cotton, skillfully rethreaded her needle and continued running rapid little rows of stitches. ”