Still, in each mind ran the echo of Peg's words. It was Christmas-time.
Why should they not, just for once, give themselves a treat--themselves,
and their dear friends into the bargain?
The sparkle deepened; a flash passed from eye to eye, a flash of
determination! Without a word of dissent or discussion the proposal was
seconded, and carried through.
"Fifty miles! We can't go above twenty-five an hour through those bad
roads. We shall have to be off by nine, if we want to be in time for
church. What _will_ they think when they see us marching in?"
"No, no, we mustn't do that. Mrs. Revell would be in a fever the whole
time, asking herself, '_Will the pudding go round?_' It really wouldn't
be kind," pleaded Margaret earnestly, and her hearers chuckled
reminiscently. Mrs. Revell was a darling, but she was also an
appallingly bad housekeeper. Living two miles from the nearest shop, she
yet appeared constitutionally incapable of "thinking ahead"; and it was
a common experience to behold at the afternoon meal different members of
the family partaking respectively of tea, coffee, and cocoa, there being
insufficient of any one beverage to go round.
Margaret's sympathies went out involuntarily towards her friend, but her
listeners, it is to be feared, were concerned entirely for themselves.
It might be the custom to abuse the orthodox Christmas dinner, but since
it _was_ a national custom which one did not care to break, it behoved
one to have as good a specimen as possible, and the prospect of short
commons, and indifferent short commons at that, was not attractive.
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