“They do the best they can,” said Tillytuck solemnly, as he went out with the milking pails. Tillytuck mostly did the milking now. Judy had surrendered the chore unwillingly. She was afraid, when Long Alec insisted on it, that he thought she was growing too old for it. And she never could be brought to believe that Tillytuck stripped the cows properly. Besides, wasn’t he ruining the young barn cats by milking into their mouths? That was no way to be training cats. Ye wudn’t be catching Gintleman Tom or Bold-and-Bad or Squedunk at inny such capers.

After breakfast the blue and gold and purple and silver parcels were distributed and everyone was pleased. Pat had been afraid Sid might not like the rather gorgeous silk pajamas she had got him but Sid did.

“They’re the very niftiest pajamas I ever saw in my life,” vowed Cuddles.

“And where have you seen so many pajamas, miss?” demanded Long Alec, thinking to “get a rise” out of Cuddles.

“On the bargain counters,” retorted Cuddles…and the laugh was on dad. It did not take much to make the Silver Bush people laugh. Laughter came easily to them.

“Isn’t she the cliver one,” said Judy…and then stiffened in horror.

Tillytuck was proudly uncovering his Christmas present for “the missus.” A Jerusalem cherry! A pretty thing, to be sure, with its glossy green leaves and ruby red fruit, and mother was delighted with it. But Judy beat a sudden retreat to the kitchen, followed by Pat.

“Judy, what is the matter? You’re never going to be sick today!”

“Patsy darlint, it’s well if there’s nothing worse than me being sick happens here this blissed day. Were ye seeing what that Tillytuck did be giving to yer mother? A Jerusalem cherry no less! Sure and didn’t I come all out wid gooseflesh whin I saw it.”

“But what about it, Judy? It’s a pretty thing. I thought it lovely of Tillytuck to remember mother.”

“Oh, oh, don’t ye be knowing a Jerusalem cherry brings bad luck? There was one brought into this house thirty years ago and yer Uncle Tom slipped on the stairs and bruk three ribs that very night. I’m telling ye. Patsy darlint, can’t ye be contriving to set the thing outside somewhere till the dinner be over at laste?”

Pat shook her head.

“We couldn’t do that. It would offend Tillytuck. Anyway, I know mother wouldn’t hear of it. You mustn’t be superstitious, Judy. A pretty thing like a Jerusalem cherry can’t bring bad luck.”

“I’m hoping ye’re right, Patsy, but we’ll be seeing what we’ll see. ‘Fogging, Judy,’ sez he. No wonder it do be fogging, and him wid that Jerusalem thing in his granary that blissed minute! But wid all there is to see to I’m not to stand bithering here.”