Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Dan Howell, his son, (that is, Uncle Mart’s son) and his two daughters, whom we were going to see. Unceremoniously we trooped in with a great deal of noise. An awful choking smoke that savored of gasoline greeted us, along with Alice, another daughter who was married, but had come down here for Christmas dinner. Ethel, she said was at Church, and Emily was working, while she (who should have been the guest) was cooking the goose! But she joyfully dropped everything, leaving big fat Dan to tend the goose, and showed their presents. There were a beautiful lot of them, everything from a picture to a hat-pin holder that a girl delights in. Then we talked a while, and when we got up to go she wanted us to stay, but we told of the tree and that we were going for a box to set it in and hurried away.
     On the way we met Fred Bennett, a druggist and asked him what drug store was open. He said Trimble’s was and when we told him our purpose, he accommodatingly said that if we couldn’t find one, he would gladly come and get one for us at his store.
    But Mr. Trimble had a box that was all-right, and altho Frances declared that people would think we weren’t right, we went marching up Main St, indulging in much laughter and talking