The Christmas sun was shining brilliantly, and it was not so desperately cold as the day before. Betty had hopes that the thin skim of snow would melt, so that the scent would lie for the fox-hunt the next morning. She ran downstairs as soon as she was dressed, and found the Colonel standing on the hearth-rug, his back to the fire, and his eyes turned resolutely away from Rosehill. Betty kissed him all over his face, and commanded him to be cheerful, as everybody should be on Christmas morning. Then Aunt Tulip and Uncle Cesar were called in for their simple gifts, and Kettle appeared with them, his clothes clean and respectable-looking. There was much talk between the Colonel and Uncle Cesar over Christmas days long past, and the Colonel, whatever his heart might be, carried out to the letter Betty's injunction to be cheerful. As for Kettle, the sight of his Christmas stocking and his treasures, the collars and the gorgeous red cravat, and the magnificent prospect of a pair of new shoes, completely overwhelmed him. He could only look first at Betty and then at Aunt Tulip, and say to himself:
"This is the fust Chris'mus I ever see; the fust Chris'mus I ever see."
"Didn't you ever have a Christmas stocking before, Kettle?" asked Betty.
"Naw, Miss," answered Kettle. "I done heah 'bout 'em, but I ain't never had none befo'."
Kettle's bliss was further augmented when Aunt Tulip put a standing collar around his neck and tied the flaming red necktie under his chin. All was then swallowed up in Kettle's rapture over his own appearance. He stood before the old-fashioned mirror over the pier table, his head barely reaching the top; his mouth came open as if it were on hinges, his eyes danced in his head, and words failed him. There are moments of rapture when speech is a superfluity, and so it was with Kettle when he beheld himself in his first cravat, and that a large one of brilliant red.
"Now, boy," said Aunt Tulip severely, who did not believe in wasting indulgences on boys, "now that Miss Betty and ole Marse done been so good to you, you got to do all you kin to holp along. You got to pick up chips an' fotch water an' black ole Marse's shoes an' do everything you know how."