"Blow the horn again, John," called out Mrs. Hedden, as she cut another
slice from the big brown loaf that had rapidly been growing less under
her shining knife. "Ha! ha! they can't help hearing _that_," she
laughed, as her husband blew a blast even louder than usual.

After waiting a moment, Mr. Hedden came in, throwing the almanac on a
low wooden settee as he entered.

"No use waiting any longer, wifey--let's sit by. I don't see a sign of
the youngsters; though it did seem to me I heard some of 'em screaming
and laughing in the distance a bit ago. 'Twon't do, though," he
continued, shaking his head; "we must make the crazy little cubs mind
the horn closer. Play's play, and all well enough in its way, but you
must teach children regularity from the very outset, or they'll never be
good for much."

"That's true enough, John," answered his wife, as she "dished" some of
the steaming potatoes--leaving a goodly number in the pot for the little
folk--"that's true enough; but you know this is a day of extra frolic
for the children. They're having such fun, likely, they've no notion
how the time is passing. As for the horn, who could expect mortal ears
to hear _that_--with Bessie and Big Tom laughing and singing, and
Rudolph screaming with fun--as I know he is; and little Kit, bless her!
just frantic with delight; I think I can see them now, the merry
madcaps!"

Ah! happy, unconscious mother, if you _could_ have seen them--if their
cries of terror could but have reached your ears!

Finally, neighbor Hedden arose, shoving back his stool on the sanded