Neat little undergarments, white little frocks, a something that the
miner felt by instinct was a "nightie," and two pairs of the smallest
of stockings rewarded the overhauling of the package, and left Jim
momentarily speechless.
"By jinks!" said Keno, pulling down his sleeves, "them are awful small
fer us!"
"If only I had the time," drawled Jim, "I'd take 'em back to Miss Doc
and throw them in her yard. We don't need anybody sewin' for little
Skeezucks. I was meanin' to make him somethin' better than these
myself."
"Oh!" said Keno. "Well, we could give 'em to the pup. He'd like to
play with them little duds."
"No; I'll try 'em on the little boy tonight," reflected Jim, "and then,
if we find they ain't a fit, why, I'll either send 'em back or cut 'em
apart and sew 'em all over and make 'em do."
But once he had tried them on, their fate was sealed. They remained as
much a part of the tiny man as did his furry doll. Indeed, they were
presently almost forgotten, for December being well advanced, the one
great topic of conversation now was the Christmas celebration to be
held for the camp's one little child.
Ten of the big, rough citizens had come one evening to the cabin on the
hill, to settle on some of the details of what they should do.
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