A romantic christmas love-story by Kate Douglas Wiggin, illustrated by Alice Ercle Hunt.
An excerpt:
“…It was then, when Dick had gone away, that the days had grown drab and long, but the twins kept Letty’s inexperienced hands busy, though in the first year she had the help of old Miss Clarissa Perry, a childless expert in the bringing-up of babies.
The friendship of Reba Larrabee, so bright and cheery and comprehending, was a never-ending solace. There was nothing of the martyr about Letty. She was not wholly resigned to her lot, and to tell the truth she did not intend to be, for a good many years yet.
“I’m not a minister, but I’m the wife of a minister, which is the next best thing,” Mrs. Larrabee used to say. “I tell you, Letty, there’s no use in human creatures being resigned till their bodies are fairly worn out with fighting. When you can’t think of another mortal thing to do, be resigned; but I’m convinced that the Lord is ashamed of us when we fold our hands too soon!”
“You were born courageous, Reba!” And Letty would look admiringly at the rosy cheeks and bright eyes of her friend.
“My blood circulates freely; that helps me a lot. Everybody’s blood circulates in Racine, Wisconsin.”—And the minister’s wife laughed genially. “Yours, here abouts, freezes up in your six months of cold weather, and when it begins to thaw out the snow is ready to fall again. That sort of thing induces depression, although no mere climate would account for Mrs. Popham.—Ossian said to Luther the other day: ‘Maria ain’t hardly to blame, parson. She come from a gloomy stock. The Ladds was all gloomy, root and branch. They say that the Ladd babies was always discouraged two days after they was born.’”
The cause of Letty’s chief heartache, the one that she could reveal to nobody, was that her brother should leave her nowadays so completely to her own resources. She recalled the time when he came home from Boston, pale, haggard, ashamed, and told her of his marriage, months before. She could read in his lack-lustre eyes, and hear in his voice, the absence of love, the fear of the future. That was bad enough, but presently he said: “Letty, there’s more to tell. I’ve no money, and no place to put my wife, but there’s a child coming. Can I bring her here till—afterwards? You won’t like her, but she’s so ailing and despondent just now that I think she’ll behave herself, and I’ll take her away as soon as she’s able to travel. She would never stay here in the country, anyway; you couldn’t hire her to do it.”
She came: black-haired, sullen-faced Eva, with a vulgar beauty of her own, much damaged by bad temper, discontent, and illness. Oh, those terrible weeks for Letty, hiding her own misery, putting on a brave face with the neighbors, keeping the unwelcome sister-in-law in the background…”A romantic christmas love-story by Kate Douglas Wiggin, illustrated by Alice Ercle Hunt.
An excerpt:
“…It was then, when Dick had gone away, that the days had grown drab and long, but the twins kept Letty’s inexperienced hands busy, though in the first year she had the help of old Miss Clarissa Perry, a childless expert in the bringing-up of babies.
The friendship of Reba Larrabee, so bright and cheery and comprehending, was a never-ending solace. There was nothing of the martyr about Letty. She was not wholly resigned to her lot, and to tell the truth she did not intend to be, for a good many years yet.
“I’m not a minister, but I’m the wife of a minister, which is the next best thing,” Mrs. Larrabee used to say. “I tell you, Letty, there’s no use in human creatures being resigned till their bodies are fairly worn out with fighting. When you can’t think of another mortal thing to do, be resigned; but I’m convinced that the Lord is ashamed of us when we fold our hands too soon!”
“You were born courageous, Reba!” And Letty would look admiringly at the rosy cheeks and bright eyes of her friend.
“My blood circulates freely; that helps me a lot. Everybody’s blood circulates in Racine, Wisconsin.”—And the minister’s wife laughed genially. “Yours, here abouts, freezes up in your six months of cold weather, and when it begins to thaw out the snow is ready to fall again. That sort of thing induces depression, although no mere climate would account for Mrs. Popham.—Ossian said to Luther the other day: ‘Maria ain’t hardly to blame, parson. She come from a gloomy stock. The Ladds was all gloomy, root and branch. They say that the Ladd babies was always discouraged two days after they was born.’”
The cause of Letty’s chief heartache, the one that she could reveal to nobody, was that her brother should leave her nowadays so completely to her own resources. She recalled the time when he came home from Boston, pale, haggard, ashamed, and told her of his marriage, months before. She could read in his lack-lustre eyes, and hear in his voice, the absence of love, the fear of the future. That was bad enough, but presently he said: “Letty, there’s more to tell. I’ve no money, and no place to put my wife, but there’s a child coming. Can I bring her here till—afterwards? You won’t like her, but she’s so ailing and despondent just now that I think she’ll behave herself, and I’ll take her away as soon as she’s able to travel. She would never stay here in the country, anyway; you couldn’t hire her to do it.”
She came: black-haired, sullen-faced Eva, with a vulgar beauty of her own, much damaged by bad temper, discontent, and illness. Oh, those terrible weeks for Letty, hiding her own misery, putting on a brave face with the neighbors, keeping the unwelcome sister-in-law in the background…”
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Price: $ 3.95
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