Oh, I remember, exclaims GERTRUDE. That was the way we did last
year. Don't you remember, Walter? Walter nods. And last year,
GERTRUDE goes on, I was the youngest and I was helped first to every
single thing. Grandmother, who is the youngest this year?
Why, you are the youngest, answers GRANDMOTHER, just as you were
last Christmas.
But I'm a whole year older than I was then, says GERTRUDE, looking
puzzled.
And so is everybody else, GRANDMOTHER explains.
Really? says GERTRUDE, not quite convinced. So I'm the youngest
still? Will I be helped first to the goose and the apple sauce?
Yes, answers GRANDMOTHER.
And will she be helped first to the pudding, too? asks WALTER
anxiously.
Yes, answers GRANDMOTHER.
Oh, I'm so glad, cries GERTRUDE. Isn't it nice to be the youngest?
Am I the next youngest? asks WALTER.
Yes, GRANDMOTHER answers, and the second helping of everything will
go to you.
Oh, well, that's all right, says WALTER, a good deal relieved.
There's sure to be plenty left. Gertrude couldn't eat it all.
Now there is the sound of someone outside the door, stamping to shake
the snow from his boots.
There's Father, cries GERTRUDE. She and Walter go to the door and
open it. Their father comes in, carrying several good-sized pieces
fire-wood.
How late you are, James, says GRANDFATHER, and how tired you look.
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